


A Light in Darkness

by kuhekabir



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ghosts, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Sexual Content, Temporary Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuhekabir/pseuds/kuhekabir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Losing his life had been bad enough. Then Derek invaded his home and his best friend betrayed him. Would being alive again really end in tragedy? Or would he finally get his happy ever after?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the TEMPORARY character death (ghost), this will have a happy ending...I said TEMPORARY character death...TEMPORARY!
> 
> Anyway, there is dub-con, attempted non-con in this story. Nothing too graphic, I think, but it will be there.
> 
> The story will have a happy ending. But the road to happiness is never easy so there will be a bumpy road ahead! But I promise, despite all the tags, there will be a happy ending.
> 
> I just believe in adding as many warnings to the story as I can so that people don't get startled by something...hope you will like the story! This is my second story in the fandom...

“Stiles, come on, look at me…” And then more urgently with hands reaching for him, “Stiles…”

He shied away from the touch, eyes panicked. When he tried to touch him again, Stiles practically flew backwards, pressing himself against the wall. Slowly he slid down, making himself as small as possible. Pulling his knees up all the way to his chest, he put his head in between his arms, trying to hide.

“No…no…no…” he mumbled, too quiet for any human to hear.

He shivered. _Terrified out of his mind_ was taking on a whole new meaning…

##

**Weeks earlier…**

“You can’t be here…” he announced, hands at his hips.

“Excuse me,” the dark head swivelled around and Stiles found himself mesmerized by vivid, moss green eyes. _Moss green_ , he thought dreamily, _what an odd colour_.

“Shoo,” Stiles followed his word up with the appropriate gesture. “I’m haunting this place. Go find somewhere else to bother the living…”

The handsome man with the weird eyes frowned but despite expectations, the expression didn’t do anything to make him any less appealing. Thankfully, Stiles was no long bothered by these things. He’d moved on, right?

“I think you’ve got things backwards,” the stranger announced, levelling a very intense look on Stiles who despite knowing no harm could possibly come to him, still flinched. “This is my family’s property.”

Stiles shrugged. “Who cares? Now I live here, go away…”

The frown deepened. Then, instead of a witty comeback or even some insults, the guy simply turned around, presenting a very strong back.

Stiles gaped. He wasn’t used to being ignored.

“Hey!” he shouted when the intruder had the audacity to actually walk away from him. “Come back here! I wasn’t finished talking to you yet!”

There was no answer. Stiles eyes drifted lower, down the long line of tall man’s back towards his ass, cradled to perfection in smug fitting jeans.

 _Life wasn’t fair_ , Stiles decided. But then again, shouldn’t he know this by now?

##

When he flickered back into existence, he hadn’t expected the moving truck or the people roaming about on what Stiles considered to be his property.

He had dibs on this place, alright? A special connection so to speak and the intruder had to go. Clearly it was time for the big guns!

Before he could come up with any plan to actually back up his bold statement, one of the movers walked right through him, scattering him into the winds for a brief moment in time.

“Hey!” Stiles protested when he was corporal again. “Watch where you’re going, you ass!”

Predictably, the human didn’t react since ordinary people couldn’t see him at all.

Stiles grumbled. His peace was being disturbed. When he looked up, he found green eyes staring at him from the porch. He gave him the finger before vanishing into thin air.

The chuckle that followed him sounded more like the dooming bells of hell than amusement.

##

Eventually, Stiles formed again because if curiosity killed the cat, then cats had never met him because he clearly out did them in having to stick his nose into places where it didn’t belonged. 

His insatiable need to know what was going on had landed him in this existence after all. At least he thought so. He wasn’t too sure, to be honest.

Night had fallen during his impromptu sulk but unlike normally, the lights inside the house were working over time. Everything was so bright, it hurt his eyes.

Moving through walls, he easily located the stranger as he was rummaging around a box, back once again turned to him.

This time though, he wore no shirt, just loose riding sweatpants and… _gulp_ …nothing else.

There was an intricate tattoo snaking its way up the man’s back in cold colours and Stiles’ fingers practically itched to touch it, to follow the pattern from top to bottom.

He was already hovering, hand outstretched when the guy reared back, connecting with his outstretched hand.

“Ack!” Stiles yelled, yanking his hand back as if he’d gotten burnt.

“What the…?” the intruder exclaimed, hurling around surprisingly quickly. Well, maybe not so surprisingly. Stiles smacked himself on the head. For someone who’d always prided himself on being the smart one, he was surely acting like a first class idiot.

“You’re a werewolf!”

One eye brow got raised.

“Oh…” Stiles formed the word, eyes wide. “You’re like Scott!”

Now it was Grumpy’s turn to frown, living up to the spontaneous nick name Stiles had given him.

“You’re not leaving then…” Stiles continued to prattle on, not liking the silence at all. He didn’t do too well when there was no sound. Never had and probably never would. Thankfully, his issues hadn’t really translated into this new existence but there was still a thread of unease, of constant twitchiness which he couldn’t quite shake. Maybe it was like some sort of ghostly memory? An echo of the boy, or man, he’d once been?

“No, but you are…” the guy threatened.

Stiles watched wide eyed as the vision got onto his feet. He licked his lips, wondering why the after life had to be so cruel.

“No,” Stiles declared, folding his arms across his chest. “I was here first.”

“No, you weren’t.” The werewolf countered. “My family was here first.”

“But you weren’t here! I was.” He pointed out logically.

“Why are you this attached to this place anyway? Can’t you go haunt the place where you died?”

Stiles blinked, looking down. An image rose out of the depths of his mind, slow and unyielding. It engulfed him, tried to drag him down into eternal darkness but he clung to what he had left of his life, not wanting to let go.

“Hey!”

Hands were on him, shaking him and Stiles’ eyes snapped open again. When had he closed them?

“You alright?”

He hadn’t expected concern and it warmed his soul. A soft smile graced his features as he nodded.

“You died here, didn’t you?” his voice was soft, like velvet caressing his skin. No words formed so he settled for nodding before he shrugged.

“I don’t…” he started to say, hold captive by the green eyes staring at him. It’s been so long since anyone had looked at him like that.

Even Scott didn’t interact with him like he once had and it hurt…it hurt like hell loosing the only connection he had left to his formerly human life.

“Did you die here?” the question was a lot more forceful now, accompanied by a hard squeeze of his shoulders. It shouldn’t hurt. He was a ghost but part of the weird rules of his afterlife was the fact that werewolves couldn’t only see him but also touch him. Well, not all the time. Sometimes, when Scott reached for him, he went right through Stiles but compared to being nothing but a whisper, to being nothing but air to all the other humans, Stiles was willing to settle for the fleeting touches he could get.

Even pain at this stage, physical pain to be specific, was kind of welcome.

“I don’t know,” Stiles hung his head. “I don’t remember…” After a short pause, he added. “But I like it here. It’s peaceful.”

Heavy quietness settled over them. The fingers on his shoulders squeezed once more before they let go.

“You can stay.”

When Stiles looked up, his smile was wide and warm.

“Thank you, thank you!” he hurriedly, said, moving to give the guy a hug to express his gratitude.

What he got was a startled expression and a hasty retreat. But Stiles was too happy to be bothered by the rejection.

He resumed his happy dance, zooming through the house, shaking his hips, glad not to be alone for once.

When the lights eventually turned off and the still nameless guy settled in for the night, Stiles quieted down some but he didn’t leave, choosing to hover in a corner, watching the handsome man sleep.

And no, this wasn’t creepy. He wasn’t rattling metaphorical ghost chains in a corner or running around the house shaking furniture and screaming _boo_.

He was just resting. And if it included staring at the smooth expanse of chest before him, watching him breath in and out while shifting on the bed, hoping for the pants to slide lower and lower…well, he might be a ghost but he wasn’t _dead_.

Well, technically he might be _dead_ , Stiles amended but he was still here, wasn’t he?

His thoughts rattled on inside his head, following no logical path because they never had.

So why should they when he was no longer among the living?

Eventually, even ghosts needed to rest and when the sun slowly rose over the horizon, his vision dimmed until he vanished completely.

Blinking out of existence no longer scared him as it once had. He was no longer worried about just vanishing, about dissolving into nothing and not coming back.

Wherever he went when he blacked out, when his ghostly apparition vanished, he didn’t know but so far, he’d always come back.

And to be honest, a little break from his new existence wasn’t so bad at all. It gave him a reprieve of wondering about his father, of wondering where he would be now if he hadn’t snuffed it.

Sometimes he wondered if being trapped like this was hell. A punishment for being annoying and generally a pain in the ass.

But things were looking up now and for once, he was actually looking forward to re-appearing.

His undead life surely could only get better from now on out, right?

For what could possibly be worse than waking up as a ghost, figuring out everyone he loved thought he was dead?

Nothing could possibly match _that_ , right?

When the first rays of the morning light entered the bedroom, Stiles vanished, resting in peace for a short little while the stranger slept on.


	2. Chapter 2

“If you insist on hovering, then you could at least start calling me by my name.”

“Grumpy pants?” Stiles offered, feeling generous.

The glare he received no longer scared him. Two weeks had passed and they had settled into a routine. Mostly, the guy ignored Stiles but it wasn’t as if he was dependent on him. He had other places to visit and while only Scott was able to interact with him, he wasn’t totally without a purpose.

After all, without him the cat population in his home town might actually become scary. Thanks to him and all the _booing_ and _ahing_ he did at the felines, only house cats remained while the drifter cats settled elsewhere.

Sadly, only cats could see him which had been kind of a downer initially. Stiles had always considered himself to be more of a dog person. But hey, he had to take his amusement where he could get it and chasing the little guys around was fun. It wasn’t as if he actually harmed them!

“No, stupid,” the guy groused. “Derek. You can call me Derek!”

Stiles crooked his head, giving him a once over, letting his eyes slowly travel up and down the amazing body. So what if he occasionally sneaked a peak in the shower! There had to be some perks to being able to drift through walls, right?

“I like it,” Stiles announced. “You can keep it.”

“Keep what?”

“Your name,” Stiles declared easily, waving one hand about. “No need to change it.”

“Why would I change it?”

Stiles blinked. “Because…”

“No,” Derek raised a hand and Stiles for once shut up. “I don’t need to know. Your kind of crazy makes my brain hurt.”

A heavy silence followed and Stiles couldn’t quite the shaking he’d missed a clue of some sort. Tilting his head sideways, looking as adorable and as innocent as possible had always worked on his father, and to some degree on Scott, so he tested the theory now. Derek blinked and the proceeded to stare, folding his arms across his chest.

“This would now be the prefect time for you to tell me what _your_ name is.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. He blinked. His cheeks heated up and yes, a ghost could still blush. “Stiles.”

“Stiles?”

“Is there an echo in here?” Stiles asked, frowning.

“What kind of name is Stiles?” Derek demanded to know.

Stiles straightened up. Was the guy insulting his name? He bristled and there might have been a few appliances which starter rattling but really, so not his fault.

“Easy there,” Derek tried to placate him. “Stiles it is. No need to shake the house.”

“I wasn’t…” Stiles tried to defend himself but Derek was already walking passed him, ignoring him like he was prone to do.

He pouted for a little while but then he followed Derek into the living room. When Derek sat down on the sofa, flicking on the TV, Stiles hovered for a bit, unsure what to do.

“Oh for crying out loud…” Derek muttered before he got up, grabbed Stiles’ hand and forced him to sit down.

“I’d offer you some popcorn but I’d rather not test the theory if I could watch it bounce through your body or not.”

“Hey!” Stiles objected. “I’m not new to this! I’m as solid as I can get!”

“Really?” Derek looked at him oddly and before Stiles could decipher the strange glint in his eyes, Stiles was flat on his back with Derek tickling him.

“Eeehhh!” he shouted, twisting and struggling.

Being a ghost might come with some _enhancements_ , if you wanted to call them that, but extra strength wasn’t among them. A part of him relished being pinned down, loved the feeling of strong thighs clamping down around his lower body, keeping him forcibly in place. The other part was currently too freaked out by the itching and tickling sensations trying to drive all sanity out of his mind. He’d known he was ticklish but who would’ve thought this would apply to him in his current state? In the grand scheme of things, he was still a fairly young ghost.

“Stop…please!” He begged, barely able to utter the words since his lungs were failing him. Gasping for breath, he wiggled, hands coming to rest on Derek’s shoulders, trying to push him off yet again.

Soft lips on his had him gasping, body both tensing and melting into the sofa at the same time. He was learning new things, like being ticklish while being a ghost and now, how he could be mellow and pulled taunt like a string all together at once. Wasn’t this amazing? Canine teeth drew what would’ve been blood if he’d been human and he had no clue what the ghostly equivalent was but whatever it was, it was amazing! Derek’s hands, so cruel only moments ago, were now softly pushing his shirt up, revealing Stiles’ flat stomach. His body arched into the one above him, his hands on Derek no longer pushing him away but pulling him closer.

More, more, he needed more…this wasn’t enough, not by a long shot!

Reason fled his mind, only instinct remained. The kiss turned more urgent, more demanding and when Derek shoved his tongue into his mouth, Stiles groaned, happy to have come this far.

This was even better than he could’ve imagined!

_Riiiinnng. Riiiiiiinng._

“Damn it,” Derek cursed, pulling away from him. Stiles followed, hands clutching at the man’s body, attempting to keep him in place. They’d come this far, couldn’t they please continue?

His dick was straining in his pants, demanding for an outlet and it would be just downright cruel…

Derek moved off him, straightening his clothes. Stiles could see easily how affected the guy was, making him feel only a tad less annoyed at having been robbed of a great time. When Derek came into reach, Stiles’ hand shot out, placing it on Derek’s crotch. If he didn’t get the see the price, then he wanted to at least feel it!

For a brief moment, Derek stopped and Stiles watched his eyes fluttering shut as he massaged the cock he could feel through the fabric. It felt heavy underneath his fingers, heavy and _big_ and Stiles’ mouth watered just from the thought alone of, maybe one day, being allowed to taste…

Then his hand was being yanked away, shoved aside and Derek stormed off, muttering more curses as he left Stiles alone with his misery.

A deep sigh left his lungs while he tried to get his body back under control. He had no clue how other ghosts felt, if he was normal by ghostly standards or not, but this wasn’t the first time he’d felt the stirrings of passion since he’d moved on. He’d never been with another person but, despite feeling horrible about it, he might’ve snug into the girl’s and boy’s locker room at his former school one day, testing a theory.

In his defense, he’d only done it once and he’d only stayed until his dick had been ready to explode. It wasn’t as if he’d hung around, invisible to all the students while pleasuring himself. _That_ would’ve been creepy. No, he’d just peaked and then taken care of his business elsewhere.

As far as he could tell, ghostly spunk looked just the same as human one but then again, whenever he did catch his reflection, he still looked the same as he had before his death so maybe he wasn’t the right person to judge. Whisky-brown eyes usually stared back at him from the reflection framed by thick, long lashes. He’d never liked the color to begin with and now he’d be stuck with it throughout eternity. He had a small, button type nose and short, dark hair. His skin had always been pale despite the many hours he’d spent in the sun but being a ghost hadn’t helped his completion at all. The last time he’d been staring at himself, he’d smacked his lips, pursing them, checking himself out, trying to gauge if there was anything appealing about his looks but he’d come up with nothing. 

A soft smile played across Stiles’ face as he recalled Scott walking in on him as he was making faces at the mirror in his friend’s bedroom. It had been a good moment, full of light-hearted laughter and those were extremely short in supply these days. There was on thing to be thankful for, he mused, at least being stuck in this state of existence, he was never going to get fat and he would never have to work out a single day in his life again. He figured, he’d have to take the up-sides where he could find them, right? The downside was he was now permanently stuck in the body of a nineteen year old. Oh well, there were worth fates, right? At least he’d seen his high school graduation…giving his Dad some good memories and yep, there went his good mood.

“You sure?” Derek’s voice drifted through the otherwise empty house.

Stiles had no problems with listening in to conversations but to be honest, right now he wasn’t trying. Still, Derek wasn’t really being quiet so it wasn’t his fault when he caught most of what the guy was saying.

“No, I don’t feel lucky, you ass…” Derek was shouting into the phone now. “Did you forget the part about where he…” The rest of the sentence was mumbled, as if Derek had realized Stiles might be overhearing what was being said.

He could hear footsteps and then the front door closing. Sure, Stiles could follow but why bother?

It wasn’t as if they were talking about him and he currently had a more pressing problem to deal with than his curiosity. Mark the calendar, people! It didn’t happen often! But today, curiosity and the need to know everything wasn’t motivation him…oh no…with deft fingers he pulled down his zipper, freeing his weeping cock. If Derek, the evil guy, wasn’t going to finish what he started, he’d have to do it himself.

Even with his mood having slipped into dark corners, his freaking dick was still hard and leaking, demanding attention. Clearly those two parts of his body were at war.

He allowed his eyes to flutter shut while conjuring up an image from last night. 

Water droplets were cascading down the long expanse of Derek’s back as he leaned forward, presenting his ass to the world. 

Stiles stroked himself harder, his moan echoing through the otherwise now empty house.

Then, he turned, head tilted upwards towards the spray, rubbing the shampoo out of his eyes. But Stiles wasn’t watching his head or his chest. No, his eyes zoomed in on the gorgeous cock nestled amidst dark pubic hair…flaccid at the moment but still of a decent size…Fully engorged it would be huge!

Stiles’ mouth watered in memory of the heavy organ as his heart rate sped up to almost dangerous levels. So close, he was so close. He could feel his orgasm building deep inside him. A door was being opened and slowly, the world dulled until nothing apart from the oncoming storm remained.

He erupted, a scream leaving his lips, body twitching and spasming as he milked himself dry. When he was done, spunk vanishing into thin air as if it had never been, he fell back onto the sofa, unable to move.

That was…that was…wow…

Words scattered into million pieces inside his mind.

The front door opened and closed and with a panicked squeal, Stiles willed himself to be elsewhere.

He’d rather not be caught with his pants down, thank you very much.

##

“Stiles!” Scott shouted the moment he appeared.

“Ooops!”

Stiles quickly tugged himself back in, blushing slightly. When he looked up, his best friend was blushing furiously while the back of his hand was shielding his eyes.

“You decent?”

“Sure, sure…”

“What the hell, man?” Scott yelled, removing his hand.

“Sorry,” Stiles shrugged. “Kind of had to get away.”

Scott gaped at him, mouth opening and closing but for whatever reason, he decided not to say whatever had been on his mind.

“Things have progressed with your new housemate then?”

“What?” Stiles stopped what he was doing, putting some random piece of clutter down. Scott’s room was a mess and apparently having a ghost nag at him wasn’t having any affect at all. His mother had obviously given up years ago and was now avoiding her son’s room like the plague. Maybe, she had it right!

“Oh come on,” Scott whined, flopping down onto the bed which Stiles took as an invitation to do the same. Those moments of normalcy used to mean the world to him and they still did…but now, everything was drowned about by _Derek this…and Derek that_ …maybe he had gotten a bit obsessed. No one could blame him, right?

“You’ve been talking nonstop about the stranger invading your territory and the actual hateful rants stopped about a week and a half ago. Now, you’re making moon eyes every time the topic comes up.”

“Moon eyes?” Stiles asked, offended. “I don’t do moon eyes!”

“Really?” Scott shot back, his shoulder bumping into Stiles, almost sending him toppling sideways. “What about the time you were lusting after Lydia for like your entire life?”

“I had a crush!” Stiles defended himself. “And I clearly remember you talking non stop about a girl you’ve seen in passing…”

“Not the same,” Scott yelled back. “There was just something about here…you don’t understand…I could practically _sense_ her and then she was gone! Tell me,” he challenged, “how was I supposed to get to know her if I didn’t even know her name? You had years to man up and to Lydia and you never did anything apart from whine!”

Stiles hung his head. His friend was right. A single tear slipped from his eye and he nearly jumped out of his skin when a finger caught it, softly brushing his cheek.

“Sorry,” Scott mumbled. “I didn’t mean…”

“No, man,” Stiles interrupted him, sniffing once for good measure before he used the back of his own hand to wipe his eyes. Then he turned, looking straight at his friend. “You’re right. It’s not the same. And I’m sorry, you never got to a chance with the girl…but if it is meant do be, don’t you think you might get a second chance?”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t so much believe in fate and happy endings anymore.”

“Why?” Stiles asked, curious. Scott might appear to be the tough one compared to Stiles but he knew his friend. His had a soft heart and when they’d been younger, the only movie Scott had ever wanted to watch was Cinderella because the girl got the prince in the end, living happily ever after.

Scott gave him a meaningful look.

“Oh,” Stiles formed the words very slowly, allowing his head to hang. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Scott quickly bumped into his shoulder again before pulling him into an impromptu hug. “Not your fault you got your ass killed…”

“Still…” Stiles mumbled, his eyes welling up again while his ghostly heart constricted rather painfully, making it quite hard to breath. “Have you found out anything?” Stiles chose to change the subject.

“No,” Scott answered, pulling away again before turning so he could take up his former position and lean against the wall. He was staring ahead while Stiles watched him intently. “Officially you’re still missing because they never found your body,” he eventually said. “I wish I’d been able to scent you…locate you…you deserve a decent burial, man…”

“That’s creepiest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Stiles observed.

“I know,” Scott agreed. “But your Dad…”

“Lalalalalala…” Stiles put his fingers into his ears. “I don’t want to know, please don’t tell me…” He wasn’t trying to be mean but just thinking about his Dad had him hurting to unimaginable levels. He didn’t need to be told he wasn’t holding up too well. He _knew_ , alright>? Stiles had been the only family he had left and now he was gone…Stiles swallowed hard. This day was getting worse and worse.

“So mature…”

“Lalalalalala…”

“Stop it,” Scott yanked his hands away. “I won’t talk about him anymore but Stiles, I haven’t found anything…”

Stiles sighed. “It’s not as if I have more luck remembering…” He answered. Truthfully, ever since Derek had moved in, he hadn’t even tried. But the darkness lurking at the edges of his mind was always there, taunting him, reminding him of all he had lost. Maybe he truly needed to let go and move on…but how could he? He was anchored to his home, to his friend and now to Derek. He couldn’t leave! What would he do? Where would he go?

Before he knew what was happening, he was wheezing.

“You got to be kidding me,” Scott grumbled. “You’re a ghost, for fuck’s sake. Stop having a panic attack!”

When demanding fro sanity to come back didn’t work, Scott slapped him hard. So hard, his head flew backwards, connecting with the wall.

“Oww…” Stiles complained, rubbing the sore spot.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“You just wanted an excuse to hit me…”

Scott, wisely, stayed silent.

“Will you come to my pack meeting later tonight?” he said instead, after a few seconds of quiet.

“Err..why?” Stiles asked, letting go of his sore spot so he could stare at his friend with wide eyes.

“I might’ve told my Alpha about you and now he wants to meet the resident ghost…”

“I’d rather not,” Stiles answered. “Wait…” Stiles backtracked. “When did you tell the jerk about me?”

Scott mumbled something which Stiles couldn’t understand.

“Speak up, dufus,” Stiles used his finger to flip off Scott’s nose.

“You know I’m a shitty liar…”

“You didn’t have to lie!” Stiles shouted. “Just not tell anyone you’re best friend is now a ghost! That’s not lying!”

“I know!” Scott yelled right back. “But I was freak out, OK? It’s not everyone I get annexed into a freaking pack and then my only rock ends up dead! I had no one to talk to you! And it slipped out!”

“So he’s known about me for how long now?” Stiles tried to mentally count the months he’d been dead but he must’ve lost track of a few weeks or months somewhere because he couldn’t actually be sure how much time had passed.

“About a year…” Scott answered. 

“And he’s only curious about me now? Why?” Privately Stiles wondered what had changed. He would’ve assumed the Alpha would’ve wanted to meet him the moment Scott told him about his friend being a ghost…so why wait a year? Why now?

“Please, come?” Scott wasn’t above begging to get what he wanted.

Sure, being invisible to everyone sucked but he didn’t know how he felt about coming out to a bunch of werewolves he’d never met. Besides, Scott’s tales from those pack meetings wasn’t necessarily encouraging him to show up either.

“I know it isn’t all honey and roses,” Scott went on to say, not wanting to let the topic go.

“You think?” Stiles countered. “You still don’t know who turned you but I’m quite certain it was one of those jerks. Who else could it possibly be?”

“Bah…” Scott waved him off. “That was years ago. I’m over it. Besides, I kind of like myself better this way.”

“Maybe,” Stiles had to admit. If you learned how to control the urges, then being a wolf surely had a few advantages. “But you can’t tell me, you’re suddenly become fond of the pack. Aren’t you the one who keeps on saying, you’ll leave them the first chance you’ll get?”

Scott hung his head and Stiles felt bad immediately. “I’m sorry,” he rushed to say but Scott interrupted him. “No, you’re right,” he said. “I mean, not everyone is an ass. There are a few nice people in the group but the moment I’m done with college, I’ll find a new pack and ask permission to join them…”

“Do you think it’ll be this easy to leave?” Stiles asked, itching to power up the computer and do what he was good at: research. But sadly, technology didn’t react too kindly to his ghostly input so the only thing he could rely on nowadays was common sense. In his book, that still put him miles ahead of Scott. He loved the guy, he really did, but he’d never been the sharpest tool in the shed and it sort of boggled the mind that he’d gotten a scholarship to one of the nearby colleges. Sure, it wasn’t a grand school, but still, he’d gotten out while Stiles was still stuck here.

“I…”

“I mean,” Stiles added. “If you could just walk away, don’t you think one of the others would’ve done it by now? Surely there are laws…”

“I don’t know…”

Stiles sighed. The Alpha wasn’t only an ass, he also seemed to like to keep everyone ignorant and on a short leash. It’d been a miracle, he’d let Scott leave to go to school but then again, the college was only over an hour’s drive away and Scott had to come back every weekend for pack outings and meetings. It was almost as if he’d never left to begin with.

“Please come tonight?” Scott begged and this time Stiles could see the fear, the unspoken plea to just play along. What would the pack leader do if Scott didn’t bring him?

“Fine,” Stiles declared. “I’ll show up. Where do you want me to be?”

“The Alpha’s house. He said, you should knock because it wouldn’t be polite to just drift in…”

Stiles rolled his eyes but then he nodded. “Sure, I’ll knock.”

“Thanks, man.” Now Scott was all smiles again, just the way Stiles liked it.

If a shiver was running up and down his spine as if someone had just walked over his grave, then it surely had nothing to do with worrying about tonight.

Then the air actually turned frigid. He could see Scott’s breath forming, an indication of how much the temperature had dropped all of a sudden. Fighting the sudden need to make like a scared rabbit, curling up in a safe hole, Stiles looked around, wide eyed. But the room looked the same. Nothing seemed out of order until Scott opened his big mouth and actually spoke.

“Did someone just walk over your grave?” Scott asked, eyes wide.

“What?” Stiles forgot all about his discomfort, staring at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Scott was waving again in Scott-speak which no one but him understood.

“Words,” Stiles told him, “use words.”

“You looked as if someone just walked over your grave…that’s an expression right? And surely…I mean…with you being a ghost…” Scott started stuttering. “Don’t mind me,” he continued. Then he leaned forward, moving his hand so he could ruffle Stiles’ hair. “Just show up tonight and all will be fine. I promise.”

A flicker of unease passed through him again but Stiles paid it no heed. Scott would never harm him and even if his Alpha was an ass, Stiles was already dead. What could he possibly do to him that hadn’t already been done?

With this settled in his mind, Stiles vanished, deciding to roam the forest for a bit before going back to Derek’s.

##

After spending some time in the forest, chasing after a few rabbits who couldn’t even see him, he decided to go back home. Technically, it might be Derek’s place now but to him, it was still home. He might no longer have a place which was just _his_ , a place where he belonged, but he couldn’t give into depressing thoughts all the time. The last thing anyone would want, was for him to end up running weeping through the hallways.

Not that he would ever give into such stereotypical ghost behaviour. Well, maybe once or twice, just to see how it would go. Anyway, he tried really hard not to think about his lack of a _home_ and most of the time, it worked. His mind did always work in mysterious ways…

“But why?”

Derek was on the phone again. Stiles didn’t want to interrupt, so he settled for popping back outside, sitting down in his usual spot by the window.

“Tonight’s the full moon.”

Derek’s voice was now drifting out of the open window. Stiles sighed. So much for not eavesdropping but he wasn’t moving. He was kind of tired and he figured, he should probably be as rested as he could be for the meeting later tonight. He didn’t want to get Scott into trouble by being even more of an idiot than he usually was.

“You sure this will work?” And after a pause. “Yes, I’m sure,” Derek spit out. “I would be the one to know, right? I felt the connection! But he’s…”

There was a gust of wind, rattling the window, closing it.

Oh well, it wasn’t as if Stiles had actually been listening. Bringing his knees up to his chest, he rested his head on them, allowing himself to drift off. Listening to the forest all around him, did always put him at ease. When he’d been alive, he would’ve never been able to sit still, to just appreciate nature in the way he could now. 

He must’ve flickered out of existence without him noticing because when he came too again, night had already fallen and he was in the middle of nowhere.

Well, this was embarrassing. Howling greeted him, reminding him he had somewhere to be.

He’d only seen the Alpha’s house once so he didn’t get it right the first time around. “Damn it,” he cursed. Closing his eyes, he brought the picture of the house to life with as much detail as he could and when he opened them again, he was facing a familiar door.

Shuffling forward, he was just started to debate the wisdom in this when the front door was yanked open.

“There you are!” Scott exclaimed, relief clearly etched into every part of his body.

He gave his friend a tentative smile as he stepped aside, gesturing him to enter. Once Stiles had passed him, Scott stepped outside.

“Where are you going?” Stiles asked him, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Uhm…” Scott hedged, looking shifty.

Faint alarm bells went off inside his head but he ignored them. Scott needed him.

“I’m going with the others for a run,” Scott answered.

Stiles didn’t need to be able to listen to Scott’s heart to know the guy was lying.

“What…?” he stared to ask when a powerful hand landed on his shoulder. He gave a less than manly shriek.

“Scott,” the Alpha’s voice was dark and unyielding, just like the man. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yes, yes,” Scott hurriedly said, gaze briefly flickering to him. “It’ll be alright. Trust me.”

Stiles blinked. What?

The door closed with a loud click. Why did he have the feeling as if he’d just signed his life away?

“So you’re the famous Stiles,” the Alpha continued, forcing Stiles to turn around. His eyes settled on the imposing figure of a man. He had to fight the urge to cower so he straightened his back, holding the man’s gaze.

“Spunk, you’ve got it in spades, right?” the werewolf seemed to approve and Stiles wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not.

He caught movement behind the man and his eyes widened. There was another wolf leaning against the wall, eyeing him way too casually. The tiny hairs at the back of his head stood upright and Stiles decided he’d be better off with listening to his instincts.

“Nice meeting you,” he babbled, trying to inch away but the grip on his shoulder didn’t lessen. If anything, claws came out, digging in. “Hey!” he protested. He might be already dead but he could still feel!

“No reason to be so skittish…” now the guy was leering at him. A stone dropped into the pit of Stiles’ stomach.

 _Run…run_ , his mind whispered. If he couldn’t move, he could vanish. Then the claws wouldn’t matter, right?

“You’re not going anywhere,” Peter Hale, also known as jerk and Scott’s Alpha, declared.

“Yes, I am!” Stiles shouted, raising his chin defiantly as he tried to fade. He’d never tried to actually vanish while someone was holding on to him but he figured being a ghost would triumph over being a werewolf.

He might’ve been right, but sadly, he never found out if he was.

He’d seen werewolves shift before but never this quickly. Before he knew what was happening, the claws were deeply buried inside his shoulder and he was yanked forward.

He might’ve screamed. He couldn’t be sure since soon everything fell away in a haze of red. Teeth tore at his throat and if he’d still been alive, his life blood would’ve probably ended up drained and he would’ve hit the ground a corpse.

Instead, there was nothing but pain on his mind. His entire body was one screaming mass of agony, one muscle, and it was screaming! There was nothing but red.

“It’s done…”

The voice barely drifted through to him. He was seizing, curling inwards. His soul, if such a thing existed, was hissing, trying to flee what was left of his once mortal body but it couldn’t go anywhere!

The world tilted. Barely conscious, he stared up at the ceiling as he was being carried up a flight of stairs. He bounced once as his back connected with something soft. 

“Better get him out of those clothes,” another man’s voice said. “Not sure if they’re going to survive the transition and if they do, do we really want them to?”

“Good point, Mark,” Peter agreed.

Being naked in the presence of two strange men, left at their mercy, should have Stiles thrashing and fighting. Instead, he barely had enough strength left to let out a whimper of protest.

He was stripped, quickly and without any lingering touches. When he was naked, he shivered.

Wait…why? As a ghost, cold didn’t faze him. Nothing could touch him and yet, here he was, feeling so very, very cold.

“You sure he’s only been dead for a year?” Peter asked while he pulled the covers up to Stiles’ chin.

“Yes,” the other guy…Mark…answered. “Stiles Stilinski, son of the local Sherriff. I even looked up his year book photo. It’s him, don’t worry.”

“If you’re wrong…” the threat was there, not even concealed.

“I am not wrong.”

“Good.” 

“Now what?”

“Now we wait until the transition is complete. Then we’ll know more.”


	3. Chapter 3

Cold. He was so cold. Shivering, thrashing…his pulse was racing. He moved, twisting, stretching, curling up, trying to make himself as small as possible as if this would make the discomfort go away.

The pain had lessened somewhat. He was no longer being ripped apart from the insight out. His soul, his inner being, was no longer trying to flee his body but something was still wrong.

Soft fabric was caressing his skin, stroking every inch of him and while pleasant, it was also painful. Every part of him was too sensitive, too in tune with the world. He wasn’t used to…

His eyes snapped open. His heart was thundering in his chest. _No…_

He jumped out of the bed, ignoring his nakedness or how goose bumps materialized all over his skin. He dashed towards the mirror hanging on the wall, balancing himself on the drawer standing underneath it.

His fingers dug into the wood while he stared at his pale reflection.

He blinked and nothing changed. He’d seen his ghostly reflection before, so this fact alone wasn’t what had him staring wide eyed at his pale face. No, what had his heart racing, his lungs constricting and had his legs nearly buckling underneath him, was the fact that he had pale rings underneath his eyes. 

He slowly let go of the drawer, raising a hand to put over the spot where his heart beat used to be.

_Thump…thump…_

His heart was beating again.

 _No_ …he shook his head. This couldn’t be! No amount of fantasying about reclaiming his life was going to make it so!

And yet, as he pressed his fingers down on his chest, nearly drawing blood when the tips of this fingers clawed into this chest, his heart kept pumping.

He gasped as his legs finally did give way.

He had a _heart beat_.

He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Like a sensitive membrane, it buckled under the pressure, bursting outwards, breaking apart into tiny particles. This couldn’t be! It was impossible! He sucked in a deep breath, lungs nearly filled to capacity before he breathed out again. It was as if his ghostly life had been a calm lake. Everything he’d known, become accustomed to, was contained underneath a smooth surface and with one act of violence, the surface had shattered, emptying the lake, leaving nothing but drained rocks behind.

He was _alive_.

 _Alive_!

##

“Let go of me!” he shouted as he was grabbed and dragged over the cold floor. Then he was dumped onto the bed and he quickly grabbed a pillow to cover his nakedness.

Peter Hale was back staring at him with an appreciative look which had his skin crawling instantly. For a brief second Stiles wished he was still a ghost so he could make _puff_ and vanish instantly.

“Why am I here?” he asked instead. He took a few measured breaths, trying to calm himself somewhat. If he managed to give himself a heart attack out of mere fright seconds after being alive again, he would never live it down.

An enigmatic smile was all he got.

Stiles tried again. “Why am I alive?”

Peter moved closer, sitting down in front of Stiles, way too close for comfort. Stiles, though, decided not to give into the urge to cringe away so he held the guy’s gaze. It took every ounce of will power but he wasn’t about to bow down before the jerk.

“Werewolves are part of the supernatural, the other world,” Peter started explaining and despite having a million questions on the tip of his tongue, Stiles stayed silent. “There’s a legend in my family which tells of a ghost who got turned into a werewolf on a full moon.”

Stiles blinked. What was he trying to tell him?

“I thought to test the theory,” Peter continued in his infuriatingly calm, almost monotone voice. “Since ghosts can be seen by us, touched even, we are the only ones who can give you the bite. And if the bite takes, you turn into a werewolf. Since there is no such things as a supernatural being caught in two realms, in two different states of existence, you returned to the world of the living…because being a werewolf triumphs over being a ghost.”

Stiles blinked. Was this some sort of werewolf propaganda? How wolves were the better beings because they were...well...wolves? Better than ordinary humans or better than ghosts...wait a minute...supernatural beings...where there more? Stiles had always thought him being a ghost was something of a fluke because during all the time he spent floating about, he’d never run into another one like him. Sure, the world was a big place but even in his small home two, werewolves and hunters had managed to invade, so why not ghosts too? He hadn’t been the only violent death after all.

Not that he remembered, of course, but considering no one had found his body yet, he figured his end hadn’t been a peaceful one.

“If the bite hadn’t taken, you would’ve moved on.”

“I’m a werewolf?” he asked, tilting his head sideways. So many thoughts were warring for dominance in his head. It was hard to even keep his eyes focused on the creeper right in front of him. Being a ghost had freed him, at least to some degree, of his little attention deficit problem because he’d been nothing but a shadow of his human self but now, back in the world of the living, he found it very hard to keep his mind on the matter at hand.

Scott. Should he find his find his friend? Had he known about this? Was this why he had acted so shifty? But why? Why would his best friend give him to the man he detested? The Alpha who’d made Scott’s wolfy life nothing but misery?

 _Dad_...he could see his Dad again!

Wait...what about Derek? What about...?

He twitched, mind and body fighting for dominance. He was torn, his thoughts moving one way while a part of him was being dragged into another direction. If he wasn’t already sitting down, he’d probably be falling sideways under the sheer strain of trying to keep his brain contained. Could it actually lift off? Leave his head and take off to parts unknown? Was this a real danger? Should he be worried? 

The smack to his head caught him by surprise.

“Weren’t you listening?” Peter challenged. “You’ve only been dead for a year, so no one will notice you haven’t aged. And yes, you’re a werewolf now. Congratulations. You’re part of my pack.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. 

“Now,” Peter drawled, “To start off your initiation, why don’t you lose that pillow and give me a blow job?”

“What?” Stiles wasn’t proud of the screech but it couldn’t be helped. “I don’t think so,” he added, shaking his head. “Blow yourself…” he added for good measure, scooting backwards on the bed. His nakedness was suddenly taking on a whole new level of _awkward_.

“I’m your Alpha,” Peter informed him. “You have to do what I tell you to do.”

“Keep on dreaming, buddy,” Stiles informed him, stopping only because his back connected with the wall. “My lips aren’t going anywhere near your probably diseased cock. Why don’t you find a nice little werewolf bitch to service you? Or someone who has actually done this before? Surely you don’t want me to accidentally bite off your precious man parts, do you?”

Peter stared at him for a few seconds as if he couldn’t believe Stiles had just talked back to him.

Stiles swallowed hard. Maybe he should’ve just kept his mouth shut but he’d never been good with following orders, his father could attest to that. _His father…_ His eyes watered. _Dad…_. He could go home. He was alive. Home…he could go home…he had a heartbeat…he could manage the wolfing out once a month bit…if women managed to survive their monthly time, surely running around the woods wouldn’t be so hard. It wasn’t as if he was a vegetarian. Sure, he’d rather have his bunny cooked before eating it but hey, he could adjust…

Unless, he kept thinking of his food as _bunnies_ because then he might become the first werewolf in existence to go down the vegetable route.

“You can’t ignore me,” Peter’s shout had Stiles snapping back into the room.

“Watch me!” he roared right back. Apparently, being dead for a year had done wonders for his brain-to-mouth filter. It was even more absent than it had been before!

The Alpha moved forward, grabbing him by the neck and hauling him off the bed and onto his knees. Stiles howled in outrage and in pain when his knees connected with the hard floor.

“Let go off me!” he demanded, trying to dislodge the hold the guy had on his neck. He received another rough hit to the back of his head which had him seeing stars almost instantly.

He fought the blackness because if he gave in now, who knew if he was ever going to wake up again!

A zipper being pulled down did wonders for his attention span. His eyes turned almost comically wide when he came face to face with Peter’s proud cock.

“Gah!” Stiles voiced his protest, trying to rear backwards and way from the offending member.

“If you bite, if you don’t as you’re told, I won’t stop at beating you bloody. I’ll also give your friend to my second in command. Do you want Scott to be his bitch?”

Stiles swallowed hard. He’d survive getting beaten bloody. He’d come back from the dead, so surely taking this couldn’t be so hard…but Scott? He couldn’t…no, wouldn’t let this ass of an Alpha punish his friend for something which wasn’t his fault. If friends didn’t look out for each other, then there was no point to anything, right?

He nodded, not trusting his voice. Hell, who knows what words might fall off his lips and then he might end up dead anyway.

There was a perfectly reasonable explanation why Scott had acted so shifty earlier on. If he’d known Stiles was going to end up in the clutches of Mr. Evil Incarnate here, he would’ve never left! He was sure of it.

No, Stiles could take being hurt but he wasn’t going to be reason someone else, especially his best friend, got punished. This couldn’t be so bad, right? Many men and women did this daily for fun...and in the end, a cock was a cock...He might not want to this particular member in his mouth but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about it. Especially lately with Derek so close at hand. 

_Yes, he could do this. Just close your eyes and think of Derek..._ Now, if he repeated this often enough, it might actually work.

Well, how did the saying go? _Hope springs eternal..._

##

Stiles was a shivering mess when all was said and done. He might even have lost some time in there somewhere but this might’ve been for the best. Who wanted to remember all the nasty bits anyway?

He smacked his lips. If he tried, he could still recall how Peter’s cock had tasted, what it had felt like to have the huge organ in his mouth and how he’d desperately wanted to be elsewhere. The moon might’ve been a good choice...

“Look at me,” the command had him twitching but he quickly mentally sidestepped the urge to follow by allowing his mind to roam down one of the many thought paths currently vying for his attention. Maybe his little mental deficiency was going to come in handy for something after all...

Then, his head was viciously grabbed. His eyes snapped open and a snarl left his lips. The mean smile had his hackles rising and if he’d actually been capable of changing into a wolf, he would’ve probably launched himself at the jerk.

“Listen to me,” Peter demanded, eyes cold as they roamed Stiles’ face. “You are to stay here. Do not leave the room. You can use the adjacent bathroom but that is it. When I come back, you’ll be ready...”

 _Ready?_ What did this mean? Stiles was too afraid to ask. He had the sick feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer. He forced himself to nod and then his head was released and he could finally dive underneath the pillow to find shelter. He stayed there until he could hear the door close. He waited for a click to indicate the door was being locked and when he didn’t hear it, he pushed the pillow away. Surely, Peter wasn’t this conceited to think the little command was going to keep him in bed?

Stiles crooked his head sideways, staying like this, listening for a few more seconds. There was no click.

When he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, there was a moment where his body seized up. There, like a faint light at the end of the tunnel, there was the urge to roll back onto the bed and obey, to bear his throat when the Alpha came back and to be ready...whatever _being ready_ meant.

But, and it was a very big _but_ , his brain couldn’t possibly process one single thought, or order, at a time. His mind was always awash with so many different thoughts, being torn along different pathways, that it had always been nearly impossible for him to stay focused on one single task long enough to get it completed. His medication had helped him. Without it, he would’ve never been able to sit through a test since focusing on one thing for a long period of time would’ve been beyond him.

He wasn’t scatterbrained. He didn’t necessarily forget things; it was just, well, other things became more important, overriding any previous urges he might’ve head. So he brushed off the command to stay since he hadn’t liked it to begin with. He might owe Peter for giving him back his humanity, well, humanity with a catch, but he’d pay of this debt by walking away and sparing the ass the torment of having Stiles around to drive him crazy. He was an acquired taste after all.

His bare feet had barely met the ground when he realized his second problem: his lack of clothing. There would be more than one raised eye brow if he tried to sneak out of a house like this.

He ignored the minute shakes which were running up and down his spine and no, his knees weren’t wobbling either. Pulling open a few drawers quickly exposed fresh clothes. Grabbing a T-shirt was easy and after sniffing it, he decided it was even safe to wear. He’d rather face the world butt naked than wear anything with Peter Hale’s scent on it.

These clothes must either be new or freshly washed to within an inch of their life because they barely smelled like rancid tea – which was Peter’s smell. Stiles shuddered. How anyone could stay in the guy’s presence and not gag or be overcome by the urge to douse him in perfume he didn’t know.

He put the shirt on, not caring the slightest how it hung on his thin frame. Next, he searched the drawers for anything he could use as underwear, coming away with a pair of dark boxer briefs. Sweatpants followed leaving him without shoes. Oh well, he decided, life wasn’t perfect.

Despite knowing the door was unlocked, he wasn’t stupid enough to attempt leaving through it. There might be a guard outside and even if there wasn’t, even if Peter was really so stupid to think a command from him would keep Stiles chained to the bed, there was always the risk of him running into someone else from his pack in the house. He couldn’t hear anyone but this didn’t mean anything. For all he knew, his supposed super werewolf hearing hadn’t kicked in yet. No, he wasn’t going to risk going through the house...and why should he when there was a perfectly fine window to be had right here in this room?

Hadn’t Scott snug in through one often enough? And hadn’t he returned the favour when he’d still been alive, avoiding curfew?

On silent feet he quickly made his way across the room towards the window. He brushed the curtain out of the way, peaking outside. He couldn’t see anyone standing guard but when he looked down, he yelped. Man, the drop was steep. Definitely worse than his own easy access room or the tree he used to climb to get into Scott’s room. What was he...two stories up? Three?

He chewed on his lower lip. As a mere human, his chances of making the jump without at least breaking a leg or an ankle, if not his head, were slim to none. But he wasn’t human anymore, now was he...so he should be fine...

He was still undecided when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Then the decision was made for him. He yanked the window open and practically flung himself over the edge before he could second guess himself or before he could allow fear to stall his movements. Maybe there was something to be said for animal instincts after all...

Sailing through the air was a surreal kind of moment before reality in the form of solid ground crashed right back over him like unyielding ocean waves. Rolling forward, he took most of the impact away, coming back onto his feet easily enough. Then he was running, running like hell, heading towards the tree line. Before anyone could see him, the darkness of the forest swallowed him whole.

##

At some stage, the trees seemed higher, the ground closer and the noises were sharper. His sense of smell was so geared up, he could’ve sworn he was able to sniff out a rabbit’s lair not too far to the right. But his purpose wasn’t to hunt. There was this gaping hole inside his chest, this emptiness, and no amount of satisfactory chase and kill would soothe it.

His wolf knew what it wanted and what he needed, wasn’t too be found in the forest. The ache wasn’t going to be alleviated by a rabbit or squirrel, regardless of how tempting they were.

He was driven further away from town, towards the edge of the forest, away from the raging darkness inside him and around him...towards a place which was home and yet wasn’t. Somewhere where he belonged, where he could lay claim to without knowing fully as to why yet.

He ran until he could barely breathe, until the soles of his feet ached, until his muscles were protesting and until he could barely move.

Then he saw it. Like a beacon of light, the house came into view. He crashed through the trees, falling forward, landing in a heap on the damp meadow. No, he wasn’t going to go down. The scent around him was strange. It wasn’t the pack he’d been forced into and yet, it wasn’t unpleasant.

The ground shifted and then he stood tall again and the sounds of the forest were reduced to a background noise, no longer having his nose or his tail twitch.

If he’d been any more coherent, he would’ve realized, or at least suspected, as to what had just happened but Stiles was a far cry away from thinking rationally.

Shaken to the core, he stumbled towards the house, towards his haven. The events from the last few hours were catching up to him, threatening to tear him down and to take any coherent thoughts with them.

He moved past the two cars, stumbling up the steps before more or less crashing through the front door.

“What the...?” a stranger said. “Who the hell are you?”

_Wrong...wrong...go away..._

He cringed, flinging himself backwards until his back connected with the door. A loud thud echoed through the house.

“Hey now,” the man was cautious now and cool blue eyes were staring down at him. “No need to panic...who are you?”

Stiles shook his head. This was wrong... He tilted his head upwards, nose lifting, sniffing the air. The familiar scent of Derek was there. Strong, undiluted, a blanket of warmth...and yet, this guy wasn’t Derek.

Stiles growled, a low, menacing sound coming from deep inside his chest. _Intruder_.

“Now, now, little one...” the stranger tried to sooth, holding out his hand as if Stiles was skittish colt. The action alone had Stiles’ hackles rising. Who did this man think he was coming into Stiles’ territory and then act as if Stiles was the one intruding? He was going rip the arm right out of its socket and beat the guy over the head with it!

“Mark...what’s going on here?” Derek was coming into view and Stile’ senses zoned in on him as if he was the only light in an otherwise dark universe.

“Stiles?”

The intruder, _Mark_ , used Stiles’ momentary distraction to reach out, gently grabbing the younger man by the upper arm. The contact, despite being non-threatening in its nature, had Stiles tensing, sending him backwards into an abyss of other unwanted touches.

Phantom pains shot through his limbs, up and down his spine, leaving his head reeling with nothing but pain and the need to get away. There was a desperate sound echoing through the house, as if an animal was in pain. The sound was pitiful, weak and ear shattering, trying to draw out the sympathy and the need to protect form others, stronger creatures. Even a predator would bow down before a young one of its species when it was hurt and crying out for help.

Stiles yanked his arm free, moving away from the door, plastering himself to the wall. The world was slowly falling away, leaving nothing but dark memories behind. He started to shake, slowly at first with ever increasing paces, until his legs refused to carry him. He slumped to the ground, curling up into a tight ball, legs pulled tightly up to this chest with his arms flung over them.

“Stiles?”

“This is Stiles? I thought you said he was a ghost?”

“What are you talking about?” Derek’s tone was confused, momentarily drawing Stiles out of his own misery. Derek was hurt? Lifting his head, he looked up, watching as Derek moved closer to Mark.

“You can’t be this dense,” Mark insulted Derek.

Stiles’ eyes narrowed. Only he got to insult Derek. It was his privilege which he earned by sneaking peaks at him naked in the shower. And the bedroom. And maybe when tall, dark and broody had thought to be alone and he’d caught him stroking himself to completion. No, Stiles wasn’t a creeper who liked to hang around in dark places, perving on pretty guys but he’d challenge anyone to be immune to Derek’s charms while in being in possession of ghostly privileges! Anyone would’ve done the same!

“The boy is no ghost. He’s got a heart beat for starters and the smell of a freshly turned wolf after his first run...surely, your sister has taught you better than this?”

Before Derek could retort, Stiles was there, pushing right in between the two men, snarling at the intruder. How dare he talk to Derek like this? Stiles was the only one who was allowed to give him lip! This had been his house first! He’d laid his ghostly claim on it and he’d graciously allowed Derek to move in because, well, how could anyone refuse those moss green eyes when they looked at him like a lost puppy looking for shelter?

Stiles didn’t dwell on the fact that Derek had practically ignored him and moved in anyway because in Stiles’ book, events had kind played out differently.

Before Stiles could do much else, Mark reached out to him again, his fingers brushing over the bare skin on his thin wrists. A jolt of fear raced up his spine, paralysing him from the inside out.

“Don’t touch me,” he whimpered, hating how his voice sounded. Derek tried to intercede but for once, his deep voice wasn’t getting through to him. Stiles turned, staring at Derek and when he reached out, wanting to touch, panic overtook his rational thoughts.

“Stiles, come on, look at me…” And then more urgently with hands reaching for him yet again, “Stiles…”

He shied away from the touch, eyes panicked. When he tried to touch him again, Stiles practically flew backwards, pressing himself against the wall. Slowly he slid down, making himself as small as possible. Pulling his knees up all the way to his chest, he put his head in between his arms, trying to hide.

“No…no…no…” he mumbled, too quiet for any human to hear.

He shivered. _Terrified out of his mind_ was taking on a whole new meaning…

An image of Peter Hale as he pushed Stiles down onto the mattress, evil grin plastered on his theoretically handsome face, overrode all reason. He whimpered, not wanting to go back there.

“Stiles, it’s me...” Derek tried again but all he achieved was for Stiles to bury himself deeper into his dark corner. Maybe if he tried to make himself as small as possible then he wouldn’t have to deal with those unwanted memories stirring to life again.

When Derek laid a tentative hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly, trying to convey comfort in his usual brisk manner, Stiles lost it. There was no other word to describe it. He lashed out, fingers transforming into claws almost instantly. Blood, he wanted to draw blood, make Peter bleed, make him suffer. The anger was like a wall of red, drawing out any other rational thought, any other feeling apart from the madness currently overtaking him.

The hand on his throat, squeezing tightly, derailed his blood thirsty thoughts. His hands rose, fingers scrambling to get loosen the grip while dark spots started dancing in his vision.

“Careful now,” Mark urged and the last thing Stiles noticed was him falling sideways and then being gently lifted off the ground and pulled into strong arms.

##

“Peter must’ve turned him...”

The voices of the two men drifted through the haze, prodding Stiles to slowly drift towards consciousness once more. He was curious by nature and people talking about him definitely captured his interest.

Unfortunately, his mind was too far gone, too stretched to its limits to actually fully comprehend what he was hearing.

“Why would he do this?” Derek asked, his voice holding an uncharacteristic whine. “What interest could he possibly have in Stiles?”

There was silence for a few seconds before Mark answered. “You called me for advice.”

“So...?”

“I dug through the archives for you, read through our ancestor’s journals...” Mark answered. “I wasn’t trying to hide what I was doing so it’s possible someone reported back to Peter what I was looking for.”

“Again,” Derek insisted. “Why would he do this? I mean, there’s no love lost between me and him or between him and my side of the family but he did concede that I had a right to move back here considering my family used to live in Beacon Hills before ending up dead.”

“Hm...”

“Hmm...what?”

“You’re no Alpha,” Mark said. “But you’ve got the stronger claim on this territory...”

“You think, he’s afraid I’m going to challenge him?” Derek asked, voice rising. “I’ve no intentions of becoming an Alpha! I like who I am. I like my solitude and not having to play nursemaid to idiots...”

“Derek...”

“What?”

“You’re the only wolf I know who’d rather be alone than in a pack...”

“I don’t like to be crowded...”

“No,” Mark objected. “You would like to be in charge. What you don’t like is bowing down to anyone. And you’d rather be alone than risk losing everything all over again.”

“You’re full of shit,” Derek snarled. “I never wanted to be an Alpha...hell, the only way I could become one would be to find my missing sister and kill her and I’d never...”

“Or you could kill Peter...”

“He’s my uncle!”

“Who you’ve seen him what...two times in your life? You can’t claim to hold any fond memories of the guy and if what I’ve heard of him is true, the world might be a better place without him in it.”

“Mark...”the name was uttered as a warning but either _Mark_ was too stupid to hear it or he fancied himself brave enough to face the oncoming storm.

“Look,” Mark carefully said, “You might not be a member of my pack, at least not officially, but the Hales and my family have known each other for decades. I consider you a brother, even if you’re a pain in my ass, and I can’t help but wonder why you would move back here.”

“I...”

“You want to be closer to your roots...get away from the noisy city...”

Stiles could practically hear the question marks in the air, the incredulity so thick in Mark’s voice it was almost touchable.

“If you simply wanted to get away, you didn’t have to invade another Alpha’s territory. Especially one as touchy as Peter Hale. No one was more surprised than me when he gave you the permission to come back...”

Derek growled, low and threatening. 

“See?” Mark challenged. “This is what I mean! You would’ve moved back here anyway, even if Peter had said no!”

“But what about Stiles...?”

“I think...” Mark started to say but right when it was about to get interesting and when Stiles started to become conscious enough to actually pay heed to the conversation, they stopped talking.

The two men walked away, leaving Stiles with many unanswered questions. Well, one question he was able to answer easily: Peter had turned him because he wanted to know if he could do it and because he didn’t want anyone else doing it before him. Derek might not want to become an Alpha or be in a pack but clearly he thrived on a challenge and Peter seemed to have rightfully recognized the danger this could pose to his dominance.

It really didn’t take a genius to figure this out and Stiles briefly worried about Derek’s level of intelligence. Then, he thought graciously, it wasn’t as if Derek needed brains to get on in this world. People, men and women alike, probably fell right at his feet every time he looked in their direction. The words _animal magnetism_ got thrown around quite casually but even while being irritated at Derek and at his audacity to move in on ghostly Stiles’ property, there had never been any doubt on his mind that Derek had this sort of mystic magnetism in spades. Despite his grumpy and snarly attitude, Derek was a born leader and people would throw themselves at him if given half a chance.

 _No_ , Stiles decided, _Peter was right_. His nephew, even unintentionally, was a threat to him. Why this would translate into the creep turning Stiles into a werewolf and then using him for his pleasure, he didn’t know, but it was probably all part of some evil and nefarious plan.

Maybe the guy had jumped to some weird conclusions. Stiles had laid claim to the Hale property in his afterlife because he’d sort of regained consciousness here and because he had nowhere else to go. And honestly, if Derek hadn’t given in and allowed Stiles to stay, the only way to get him off the property would’ve probably been to try and exorcise. And considering how Stiles didn’t have a very good track record with paying attention to what was going on around him, he doubted an exorcism would’ve actually worked.

Maybe the jerk had thought there was more going on between him and Derek than there actually was? And what had Mark been researching?

The answer was at the tip of Stiles’ tongue. He could practically see it looming on the horizon but before he could reach out and grab it, it vanished like the sinking sun. Oh well, he was alive. Who cared how it had come to be? And if the jerk thought he had any claim on Stiles’ ass or any other part of him, well, then he would be in for a surprise! Alpha or not, Stiles still had free will and he’d never been all so good with following orders to begin with. Why should his nearly turned werewolf self be any different?

Dad had always said... _Dad_...

Stiles sat up ramrod straight in his bed. _Dad_. He could go home. He could hug his Dad. He could sleep in his own bed. He could go back to school. He could start crushing on Lydia again. Hell, he was even looking forward to sitting on the bench, desperately wanting to be first line but never quite measuring up. Lacrosse was a cruel sport and he wasn’t cut out for it but neither he nor Scott had ever stopped trying!

He was out of the bed in no time. He rushed towards the wall, wanting to shimmer right through it because it would put him on the path of a straight line towards his house. With a loud thud his head connected with the wall. He stumbled backwards, raising his hand to rub at his aching forehead. What the...?

Oh...he mumbled, not dead anymore...he couldn’t phase through the wall. Just a minor setback, he decided, and then he was moved towards the door. Moments later he was running down the stairs and then he was out of the house.

Still on bare feet, he ran into the forest again.

Home...he was going home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took this long! I hope there is still anyone interested! More to follow...

He stumbled up towards the door, nearly crashing into it. He’d forgotten again. Phasing through the door was no longer an option.

His knees gave out and he sank to the ground. His entire body was shaking. He hadn’t run the whole stretch from Derek’s house to his father’s place but it had been close enough.

Even the increased strength and stamina of being a nearly turned wolf wasn’t helping matters now. Exhaustion, so deep it nearly had him going blind, was dragging him under. Gasping, he tried to suck much needed oxygen into his straining lungs. He was so close, so close to hugging his father again, to feel safe and loved, he couldn’t collapse now! Just a little further now…just a little bit.

Looking up, his eyes found the door bell. No, he wasn’t going to get back onto his feet again, not yet.

Then his eyes drifted towards the place where the second key was hidden. No, he judged, he wasn’t going to make it over there either, and even if he did, how was he going to get up again so he could use the key?

What then? 

Knocking, he could knock. He could do this.

He raised his arm, starting to pound against the door. Mere minutes or hours could’ve passed, he didn’t know. He had no way of accurately telling the time.

It seemed as if no time had passed when the door was yanked open. Shouldn’t he have been able to hear approaching footsteps? Weren’t werewolves rumoured to have advanced hearing?

Without the door to hold him upright, he fell forward with a loud oomph.

“What do you think you’re doing? Do you have any idea whose door you’re knocking at?” 

His father was in full Sherriff mode. A small smile spread across Stiles’s face at the all too familiar tone.

“Dad…” He wheezed, barely able to speak. His vocal cords were alright but his breathing was so laboured, so strained, he needed all his energy to suck in as much air as he could.

“Stiles?” His name was whispered, travelling softly through the air. Then, as if to re-enforce what he had just said, his father said it again. “Stiles!” Only this time, he was shouting at the top of his lungs.

Strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders, lifting him off the ground, dragging him into the house like a sack of potatoes. He didn’t mind the indignity of it, not at all.

Familiar smells assaulted his noses. He was home. He really was _home_. Tears welled up in his eyes, falling unabashed onto his cheeks.

He grunted in pain when he was pulled into a tight hug. He’d gotten a few bruises since he’d become human again, since he’d gained back his body but he’d be dammed if he’d moved out of the embrace or signal in any way his discomfort.

“What happened to you? Are you alright? What happened? Why didn’t you come home sooner?”

Questions over questions…so many of them, and Stiles didn’t have a good answer ready.

“Don’t remember,” he answered. “Jumped out a window…came home…”

“Shhh…” his Dad was shushing him now, rocking him back and forth. “It’s alright. Don’t worry. You’re safe now.”

This was exactly what Stiles needed to hear. Any remaining strength vanished. He practically crumbled into his Dad’s arms, going limp.

The soft touches on his face, the gentle strokes through his hair…it was like sensory overload. He couldn’t cope. It was all too much.

“I’m going to call an ambulance.” His father announced, the words drifting over him like waves in an ocean. He didn’t care. He was home. His father was holding him. Nothing else mattered.

##

Flashing lights, distorted noises, echoes of voices all around him…Stiles swam in a sea of confusion, topped off with loud, rumbling noises.

A part of him knew, an ambulance was involved. Then, the sterile lights of the hospital leading to poking and prodding, to questions being asked he had no answers to.

He tried to focus, he really did, but the world just sort of fell away, leaving him trapped inside his head.

Who could’ve known misery had a smell? Were werewolves running the hospitals? He dreaded to think what stepping into one would be like if it wasn’t scrubbed to an inch of its life.

Even with all the disinfectant around, the stench of sickness, of fear, pain and anguish, was almost too much for him to bear. Couldn’t they have brought him into a ward with happy, healthy people? Oh wait, then he wouldn’t be in a hospital.

Coping, he could cope.

He nearly groaned. Rolling sideways, he started with hiccups moving onto laughing so hard he nearly rolled off the stretcher.

How was he supposed to do this? Focus, focus…

“Give me…” A female voice ordered something but Stiles wasn’t paying any attention to it. Hands grabbed him, pulling him back onto the mattress.

“Easy there,” someone soothed him before _stabbing_ him with a needle.

His laughter vanished instantly. Instead, he screamed, started thrashing. “No!” He yelled.

“Hold him down.”

Wait, hadn’t he supposed to be focusing on something?

Darkness welled up from within him, dragging him under. A wave, so huge it would swallow him whole, appeared on the horizon, racing towards him. His struggles intensified but the incoming water was too strong to be ignored. When it crashed over him, he sank to the ground.

The deeper he went, the stiller, the calmer the water got.

 _Huh_ , he thought.

More tension bleed out of him until he couldn’t even recall why he’d been anxious to begin with.

##

Calloused finger tips were softly stroking over his hand. 

Gun powder, oil and a smell unique to his father, a combination of sunshine and newly fallen snow, greeted him. The calming ocean, in which he’d been sleeping in for the last few hours, was slowly receding. Thankfully, it wasn’t taking all of its tranquility with its retreating waters.

His eyes slowly fluttered open. Blinking against the harsh, fluorescent light had him groaning, alerting his Dad to his waking.

“Stiles…”

Stiles smacked his lips. “Water,” he mumbled.

Seconds later, the strong arms of his father were helping with sitting up, propping a pillow behind his back. “Here,” he held out a glass. “Can you hold it?”

“Of course,” Stiles replied, offended. However, when the glass started shaking, it took all his willpower not to turn himself into a liar. He took a few sips, just enough to wet his throat.

When he was done, his father took it away from him, depositing the nearly empty glass onto the night stand.

“When can I go home?” Stiles whined. He didn’t want to be here. Hospitals liked to keep people. In his experience, if you entered, you didn’t leave.

“They’d like to keep you for observation…”

“No…”

“Stiles…”

“I want to go home. Please?” He wasn’t so sure if his most pleading look would still work on his father but there was no harm in trying.

“Well,” his father drew out the word. “You’ve got a few bruises and you are too skinny but the doctors confirmed there wasn’t actually anything wrong with you. How long have you been of your medication?”

Stiles frowned. What medication?

“Adderall,” his father clarified. “When was the last time you took a daily dose?”

 _Oh_. Stiles frowned. “I don’t…I’m not sure…before…before…” _before I died_ was on the tip of his tongue. For obvious reasons, this wasn’t something he could say.

“If you promise me not to give me any grief, to get the help you need, I will see about getting you released.”

“Anything, yes…” Stiles quickly confirmed. And he meant it. He knew, his father had done right by him by brining him here but after all he’d been through, after all he had to do get back home, he’d really just want to curl up on the sofa with his Dad.

His father nodded. “Can you tell me anything about the last year? About who took you or why? Can you remember anything?”

This was no longer his father speaking. Stiles recognized the shift from concerned parent to worried Sherriff. He wished, he’d given running back home a bit more thought. He didn’t regret it but now what? He had no story to spin, no idea…wait a minute. Like a small light in the dark, an idea was born. And it wouldn’t even be a full on lie!

“I don’t remember,” Stiles whispered, averting his eyes. He chewed on his lower lip. His shoulders tensed and he was turning away from his father, curling in on himself. “I didn’t want to…” he hiccupped. “He touched me…he wanted to…I didn’t want to…please believe me?” He was pleading now.

What if his father thought he’d gone willingly? What if he thought he would’ve stayed with the creep that was Peter Hale? He couldn’t…no, this was too much to bear.

“Easy, son, easy…just breath…no one will hurt you again, I promise.” His father’s soothing words were accompanied by soft strokes over his back.

He sniffled. He didn’t want to be this pathetic. “I recall waking up,” he said eventually, sticking as much to the truth as he could. “I was in a house with two men. Naked. One of them…he…” His voice faltered again.

A new scent reached his sensitive nose. Whatever it was, it smelled like fire…like something was burning. Stiles slowly turned his head, looking back over his shoulder at his father. His father’s face was pinched, his shoulders hunched and there was the famous tick under his left eye which told him, Dad was more than just a little pissed. He was nearly homicidal rage.

Oh…fire…burning fiercely…rage…what he smelled now was _rage_!

“I fought,” Stiles continued. “I don’t think…” He tried to recall. Why had Peter left him alone again? He’d given him a command. Surely, he couldn’t have been serious? As if a mere command would keep him in place! Especially if he didn’t want to be there!

Wait…his thoughts were jumpy, his previous plan momentarily forgotten, as his mind raced down a different path. A rabbit running away in fright came to mind, zigzagging through a field on no discernable path.

Peter was the one to bite him, to turn him. And Peter was the Scott’s Alpha. Despite doing nothing but complain about the guy, Scott had yet to be able to show him he could ignore a full on command. This was why he’d only talked about leaving with Stiles since he couldn’t risk anyone else overhearing it. 

Did this mean, the command should’ve been enough to keep him prisoner? Why hadn’t it worked?

“Stiles, come on. Stay with me…”

His father’s pleading voice anchored him, brining him back to the previous conversation.

“I jumped out the window,” Stiles’s voice was stronger now. Anger coursed through him, making him itch for a fight. Peter Hale wasn’t going to get away with this. Sure, he owed him a huge thank you for making him mortal again but he was no one’s property. Especially when it came with requirements Stiles wasn’t about to fill! He’d rather go back to entering the afterlife a second time as a virgin!

 _Wait_ , a voice inside his head whispered. He’d allowed Derek to touch him. Did having almost sex as a ghost count? Was he only, maybe, half a virgin now?

“What did you do next?” His Dad’s carefully bland voice drew his thoughts back to the previous direction.

Right, his plan…

“I hid.” He continued. “Ran into the woods, curled up somewhere. When it was dark, I came home.”

“Do you remember the house? Anything?”

Stiles barely managed to stifle the small, cruel smile threatening to break out on his face. “I’m sure I’d recognize it if I saw it again.”

If he could, he’d spit out Peter’s name in an instant but it might raise questions he wasn’t ready to answer. But he could most certainly lead his father who was also the Sherriff of this town, back to where the creep lived.

Stiles watched as warring emotions fluttered over his father’s face. The man seemed torn so Stiles decided to throw him a bone. “I feel safe with you. We could drive around for a bit?” The last sentence was uttered a bit shakily because the last thing Stiles wanted was to go back to this house but if his plan was going to work, he had to get the ball rolling before Peter could throw him off course.

“If you’re sure?” His father’s eyes search his own.

“I’m sure.”

##

His father was nothing if not methodical. After quizzing Stiles on how long it had taken him from the house into the woods and then back home, he’d mapped out a search grid. Truthfully, Stiles answers hadn’t been satisfactory by any standard but he’d still been able to recall enough details of the passing time to narrow down the streets they were currently driving up and down.

Finally they entered the one where Peter’s house was. Stiles tensed. His father would protect him. He had a gun. He was a trained officer of the law.

Yet…Peter Hale was a werewolf. His creepy friend, and probably second in command, was a werewolf. Who would win?

A low growl tore free from his throat. His fingers clenched and unclenched as he fought for control. His father might only have a gun but he’d tear anyone to shreds who dared to lay a finger on his Dad!

“Is this it?” His father’s voice was just barely above a whisper. Even without his new enhanced senses, he would’ve been able to practically see the barely contained rage radiating off him.

Stiles didn’t trust his voice. He nodded.

The drove passed the house, took a left turn at the crossing and sped towards their home. When the car stopped, Stiles already knew he wasn’t going to get his wish.

“Son…”

“It’s alright,” Stiles quickly said. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone…but I don’t want to take you with me either…”

“I could stay with Scott?” Stiles offered. Actually, he’d rather head out to Derek’s place, wanting to talk to him again but he knew, there was no way he could do this. What would he say?

Derek was someone he met while he was gone? When he wasn’t supposed to remember anything?

“Yes,” his father agreed.

The engine didn’t start. Stiles slowly turned, looking at him. When their eyes met, he noticed the fine lines underneath his eyes, lines he couldn’t remember from one year ago.

“I hate to ask this of you…” His father slowly started.

“I will do it,” Stiles answered before he could ask the question. Framing Peter Hale for kidnapping was his grand plan after all. “I will try and pick him out of a line up. As long as you’re there with me…” His voice wobbled again when he said the last bit.

He was engulfed in a hug almost instantly. “I won’t let you out of sight, I promise.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. Apparently I am unable to fight off plot bunnies from while the new season is in full swing. I'm currently sitting on a lot of them, waiting for how the season plays out. This is apparently keeping me from writing, who knew?
> 
> I am expecting though a huge influx of more stories by me once this season is over...unless they totally piss me off and kill any sort of plot bunny before it could hatch...err...let's hope not.
> 
> I hope you guys are still reading this! And I hope you will enjoy the update!

Scott, predictably, wasn’t home.

His mother though was. She gladly invited him into her home, hugging him. Wetness on his shoulder told him she was crying even though she was making no sound at all.

“I just call him…? Are you hungry?” She squeezed him again. “You’re nothing but skin and bones…of course, you’re hungry. Let me fix you a breakfast. What would you like? I just make everything, right?”

It wasn’t like her to be rambling like this. Overwhelmed, Stiles only nodded. He was thankful when he was on the sofa, stretching out. The remote lay on his lap, unused. He wasn’t in the mood for mindless entertainment.

His thoughts, racing only moments before, were strangely quiet. Kind of like the calm before the storm. What would framing Peter Hale for kidnapping him bring? Would it unleash a storm? But what else was he supposed to do?

At least if his father arrested him, the Alpha would be locked up. Surely, he couldn’t do any harm from prison?

 _Dead would’ve been better_ , a new voice inside his head supplied. Stiles thought it might be his inner wolf coming out to talk to him. Was this how it worked? Did he now have a human self and an animal side? Or had he merged? He couldn’t tell. He might never be able to tell since spending one year as a ghost had already changed him. How was he to know what was from that one year of horror and what was from his most recent transformation?

Stiles didn’t even notice but eventually, he fell asleep.

##

Shadows all around him, converging, fleeing.

Waning daylight was slowly drifting through the canopies of trees, barely illuminating the ground below.

His fingers scraped over muddy ground, fighting for purchase. Nothing could halt his movement.

When it stopped, he blinked up somewhat stupidly. His body was lax, no limb was responding to his command.

Slowly the light dimmed.

##

“Stiles!”

Hands on his shoulders, shaking him. With a start, Stiles sat up, heart racing.

“I’m sorry but your father called. He’ll be here any minute to take you in for the line up.”

He nodded, voice failing him. The darkness of the dream was still clinging to him, its edges interweaving with the bright reality around him. He shook his head. Nothing but a dream. Nothing to worry about.

Rubbing his eyes to get rid of the last remnants of sleep, he sat up. “This was fast,” he mumbled.

Melissa McCall sat down next to him. Involuntarily, Stiles shifted, putting more distance between them.

“You’ve been asleep for half a day.”

“Really?” Stiles couldn’t believe it, glancing up to where he knew the clock hung on the wall. Huh, she was right.

“The arrest is all over the news,” she continued.

Stiles tensed.

“Don’t worry,” she soothed him. “They aren’t giving out any details but Beacon Hills isn’t really rife with crime so of course an arrest would hit the local news.”

“I guess,” Stiles conceded, playing with the hem of his shirt.

When Scott had been turned, he’d been a bundle of rage, barely able to control his emotions, flittering from one extreme to the other. Stiles had been barely able to anchor him, barely able to keep him grounded.

It had been worse than Stiles without his Adderall. It could’ve been funny if it wouldn’t have been so deadly.

And yet, Stiles felt numb. There were edges of fear clinging to him, trying to dig in their sharp claws, trying to get him to huddle in a corner and cry.

There were echoes of anger too. Anger at how much time he’d lost. Anger at having been murdered even if he couldn’t recall what happened. He might have been an annoying teenager but what could he have possible done to warrant death?

Then there was relief, blossoming like a shy rose deep within him, followed by love. His father. He was home. He could go home again and be seen! No longer moving through walls, able to see his Dad without being able to touch. This had been hell which was why he’d stayed clear for so long. He’d been unable to bear it.

Talking to Scott had been bittersweet. He’d gotten a taste of life, of what he’d left behind but helping his friend, listening to him when he ranted and raved about Peter, this had been the anchor he’d needed to avoid going crazy.

Even a ghost needed a purpose in life, right?

And now he was here. Why?

Oh, he wasn’t ungrateful. As much as he hated Peter’s guts and wanted to see them roasted on a stick, he couldn’t totally deny his feeling of gratitude. Whatever Peter’s reasons for bringing him back were, he was alive again.

Being a werewolf wasn’t something he was thrilled about but it beat being dead.

Which kind of begged the question: how? He’d always reasoned supernatural creatures were able to see others equally inclined, hence Scott being able to see him. No ordinary human had ever seen him.

Wait…well, there’d been this one girl…once…kind of a lifetime ago. She’d shivered, looked around and for a brief second Stiles could’ve sworn she’d seen him but then she’d moved on as if nothing had happened at all.

Anyway, how had Peter brought him back? Surely, it couldn’t be as simple as biting him, turning him. Maybe, a ghost and a werewolf couldn’t exist on the same plane? So instead of fading away, being alive and wolfy had won out?

But if it was this easy, why weren’t there more people returning from the dead? He’d never laid eyes on other ghosts but just because he hadn’t seen any, didn’t mean they didn’t exist! Besides, he’d only strayed out of Beacon Hills once as a ghost…come to think of it, this was where he’d seen the girl…

“Stiles?”

“Huh?”

“Your father is here…”

Blinking rapidly, trying to find reality again, Stiles looked up at the concerned face of Melissa. “I’m sorry I couldn’t reach Scott…”

Stiles waved her off. Scott was probably off having a panic attack or bemoaning his life. Or he might be with Peter…he shuddered. Then he paled. He could feel as his blood draining out of his face.

Scott had brought him to Peter. What was it he’d said? Frowning, he tried to recall the exact words.

_  
“Where are you going?” Stiles asked him, a puzzled expression on his face._

_“Uhm…” Scott hedged, looking shifty._

_Faint alarm bells went off inside his head but he ignored them. Scott needed him._

_“I’m going with the others for a run,” Scott answered._

_Stiles didn’t need to be able to listen to Scott’s heart to know the guy was lying._

_“What…?” he stared to ask when a powerful hand landed on his shoulder. He gave a less than manly shriek._

_“Scott,” the Alpha’s voice was dark and unyielding, just like the man. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”_

_“Yes, yes,” Scott hurriedly said, gaze briefly flickering to him. “It’ll be alright. Trust me.”  
_  
Scott had known something was up, and he’d still let Stiles walk into a trap.

His friend had betrayed him, he’d left him at the mercy of Peter freaking Hale who’d done nothing but make Scott’s life a living hell. The Alpha was a menace, tormenting his pack, wanting nothing but raw power. Stiles had never visited any of the other members because they would’ve been able to see him but Scott had told him enough.

Scott had…he’d known something awful was going to happen…he’d known…he’d…Stiles gulped, falling forward.

The earth was suddenly no longer stable. Wheezing, he tried to suck air into his lungs but they wouldn’t obey his will.

“Stiles!”

From the distance, he could hear shouting, possibly even more voices frantically calling his name.

Snarling, his eyes snapped open. He looked up into the terrified eyes of his father, crouching above him. He had no clue what his Dad was seeing but it must’ve been enough to have him pause.

“Stiles?”

Shaking his head, Stiles signalled he didn’t want to talk about his. The anger was coursing white-hot through his veins, making him almost taste blood. Scott had betrayed him.

His wolf, silent up until now, demanded retribution. Scott was pack, he was family. Family looked out for one another. Fury gave him strength, so he ignored his father’s outstretched hand, heaving himself onto his feet. With narrowed eyes, he glared at the world.

“I believe I’ve got a line up to get to,” Stiles announced. He didn’t miss how his Dad and Melissa shared a concerned look. Thankfully, Dad didn’t seem to want to push. His eyes met Stiles’, giving his son a small nod.

First, he’d take care of Peter. Then, he’d take care of Scott.

There was a small part of him, maybe a human part, maybe just a tiny voice everyone possessed, which was trying to tell him that as a newly turned wolf, he shouldn’t be able to go against his Alpha.

He shouldn’t have been able to ignore a direct command from Peter. He shouldn’t have been able to lie, he shouldn’t want anything but the approval of his Alpha.

The compulsion to be a loyal member of the pack would wane over the coming days but usually, newly turned wolves would seek approval first. Scott had been like that. Any material Stiles had managed to read since then had only confirmed it.

And yet, here he was, not only ignoring any command his Alpha had given him, but actively seeking to remove him from his life.

What did it mean?

And, did it _mean_ anything?

##

“Him,” Stiles pointed at Peter, his smug face grating on his nerves. Even in a police line up, the guy wasn’t showing concern. There was self confidence and then there was delusional. Did he really think he was untouchable?

Stiles’ chest vibrated with the need to growl, fierce and low. He balled his fingers into tight fists, restraining the urge to leap through the one-way window so he could rip the Alpha’s throat out.

Craning his neck, he shook off his strange, new homicidal tendencies.

“You need to quote the number, Stiles,” his father said.

Stiles focused on the number, repeating it out loud. “Number six.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Stiles gritted out through clenched teeth.

A hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing in what he assumed was supposed to be a reassuring way.

“You won’t have to face him again until trial. Maybe I can even get them to allow you to testify through video. But for now, don’t worry. He won’t be bothering you again.”

 _Trial_. Stiles blanched. Glancing sideways, he caught his father’s concerned gaze. Ducking his head, he hunched his shoulders, making himself as small as possible.

“Why don’t you take your son home, Sherriff,” one of the men said. “We’ve got it from here.”

“Thank you,” his Dad answer, gently guiding Stiles out of the room, herding him out of the police station and towards the car.

Stiles’ mind was still reeling. How could he have been this stupid? Any decent lawyer was going to be able to get Peter cleared of any charges. Stiles’ story was shaky at best. He had to claim loss of memory because he couldn’t very well come out and say he’d been a ghost for a year.

So where was Peter supposed to have kept him?

What if Peter claimed he’d found him walking on the street, in need of help? What if he made Stiles out to be the crazy one? Considering his ADD, his recent traumatic disappearance, Peter wouldn’t have it very hard to paint a picture of a distraught young man. And to put himself in the role as misunderstood saviour.

_He was sooooo dead!_

Stiles was in state of panic all the way home. He couldn’t even recall the drive. When his head hit the pillow, he was barely conscious any more.

This was all too much. What was he supposed to do? He was a werewolf, he had disobeyed his Alpha and he felt no inclination to roll over and bare his throat any time soon. And then there was Derek. Would he still want to be with him? 

Where was he? Why wasn’t he here? A sob escaped him. Not wanting to draw any more attention to himself, he buried his head in the pillow, muffling any sound he made.

Eventually, he drifted off to a less than restful sleep.

##

“I’ll be right back,” his Dad whispered to him.

Stiles grunted, acknowledging what was being said.

“I’ll just pick up a few groceries so we can have breakfast.”

Stiles grunted again, shifting on the bed. When he heard the front door close, he opened his eyes. He was still dressed in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. Wait, had he slept the day and night away?

Looking outside, all he got from the sun was that it was up. But it was low enough in the sky to proclaim morning so he must’ve slept for hours. _Huh._

Shower then?

Nodding to himself, he extracted himself from the bed. He’d barely left his room when he heard a floor board creek. Opening his mouth, he wanted to call for his father when the tiny hairs at the back of his neck stood up.

This wasn’t his father.

Tilting his neck sideways, he strained his ears.

One heartbeat…two heartbeats…coming closer. With wide eyes, Stiles fought the panic settling in. What to do? He couldn’t go downstairs. Any exit through the front door was blocked by the strangers in home.

 _The window._ He could jump out the window. Turning around, he ran back to his room, tripping over something discarded on the floor.

Curses were tumbling off his lips as he struggled to get up again. Before he could make it, he was yanked backwards, throwing into the wall. If he’d still been human, the action would’ve probably knocked him out. Since he wasn’t, he only started to see stars.

“Well, well,” Peter drawled, his voice sending goose bumps up and down Stiles’ spine. “You really aren’t very smart, are you?”

Before Stiles could offer up a snarky comeback, the second man grabbed him, trying to restrain him. Stiles sank his teeth into the man’s arm, forcing his canines to come out. Tasting blood was not only metallic, the taste alone had him nearly going into a frenzy. For his trouble, he received another violent shove forward. Unable to stall his momentum, he crashed into Peter who quickly turned him around, running him head first into the wall.

“Have you ever heard of bail, Stiles?” Peter asked in easy tone of voice as if they were chatting over coffee. “It’s time I’ll teach you some manners. You’ve been a bad pup, a very bad pup indeed.”

The last thing Stiles heard before darkness claimed him was Peter’s crazy laughter.

He was so screwed.

Hopefully, not in the literal sense.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small chapter to move the plot along. I will reply to all your lovely comments shortly but I just wanted to say - THANK YOU! Thank you for reading, for liking it, for all the lovely KUDOS, for taking the time to comment...you really make my day and make me smile.
> 
> We are now heading into the second arc of the story which will focus on why Stiles was killed in the first place since, you might've noticed, not much happened on that front yet. I hope you will enjoy where I am taking this story.
> 
> I've also decided to gon Teen Wolf strike at the moment because I can't possibly watch any episode if I don't know how it ends. ERRR...I do love spoilers though.

He smelled the dewy scent of grass after rain. His nostrils flared. Birds were chirping, and even the wind seemed to hum a song only known to the first men.

Burying his nose in the pillow, inhaling the scent of peace and sleep he usually associated with his bed, wasn’t the same as stuffing his nose into the grass and mud.

Wrinkling his nose, he groaned. This wasn’t his bed. Why wasn’t this his bed?

Flashes, so sharp, so swift, they left nothing but a burning intensity behind, came and went.

Twilight in the forest. Stillness, unnaturally so. The total absence of pain which in itself meant things had gone horribly wrong.

Blinking, he looked up, noting a familiar shaped tree. He’d seen it before, a long, long time ago. Before he could grab a hold of the memory, it exploded, as if someone had dropped a water bomb on the ground, shattering into million pieces.

When reality sank in, he wished he was caught up in the memory again. There at least he hadn’t been in any pain and in no immediate danger.

Someone was currently drilling holes into his skulls, hoping to find oil or gold, considering the intensity of the effort. He’d never understood the phrase _stabs of pain_ until now.

Groaning, he tried to roll over, wanting to push his head into the soggy ground once more. His pillow would’ve been better but he’d settled for dirt right now if it meant he could get out of his head.

Wait, there was no logic to this…pain exploded in his side. Had he just been kicked? Why would someone kick him in his bed?

Wait, he frowned, confusion evident. He wasn’t in his bed. Hadn’t he already established this? Grass wasn’t a pillow, regardless of what some nature freaks claimed.

When more pain blossomed again in his side, he growled, lashing out. Or at least trying to because then he was grabbed, hauled up by the scruff of his neck, evil eyes boring into his skull.

He might’ve whined as a result. A dark shadow came out of nowhere, barrelling into Peter. The Alpha let go of Stiles who fell backwards onto the ground with a soft sound of complaint.

Hellish noises assaulted his ears. He knew he should be moving, join in, since whoever had pushed Peter off him, was doing this for his sake. And yet, he couldn’t move. Well, this wouldn’t do.

Forcing his tired limbs to act was probably among the hardest things Stiles had ever done. Slowly, one muscle at a time, he managed to roll onto his side. Then, he got into a sitting position, blearily looking at the world.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Stiles recognized the voice at once. It was Peter’s second in command. Mark? With wide eyes he stared at the barrel of a gun pointed right at his head.

Even as a werewolf with super healing powers, he doubted he would be able to survive having his head blown to bits. So he did the only thing he could. He turned his head, watching the fight.

The shadow turned out to be Derek which loosened the knot around Stiles’ heart. Derek cared. He was here. He was trying to protect him!

Out of nowhere, an arrow whooshed past him, burying itself in Mark’s chest. Both of them stared at it with wide eyes. Then, almost as if in slow motion, Mark’s face contorted before he keeled over. He twitched, kind of like a fish on dry land, before going utterly still. His gun fell to the ground, coming to lie beside him. 

Uhm…what had just happened? Another arrowed nearly missed him, leaving his ears ringing. He hurled himself around again, a warning shout already on his lips when, instead of harming Derek, the arrow went into Peter’s calf.

With a howl, the Alpha roared, momentarily distracted. Stiles couldn’t quite comprehend what happened next. Derek’s strong hands gripped Peter’s throat, twisting and turning until there was a loud crack. Apparently not satisfied with just snapping someone’s neck, Derek yanked the arrow out of the man’s legs, using the spearhead cut his throat.

The hands that had so gently caressed Stiles what seemed like an eternity ago, were now covered in blood. When he turned, instead of the usual beautiful pale coloured eyes, they were shining bright red. Alpha. Derek was the Alpha now.

A young woman strolled into view, her crossbow easily at her side, pointing downwards. Her long brown hair was braided and there was something familiar about her.

She looked oddly innocent, harmless even, despite the tight fitting clothes and the bad ass attitude.

Could it be? Could she be the girl who’d sensed him all those months ago? _No_ , Stiles decided, _the world didn’t work like this._ Coincidences did happen but what were the odds for this dangerous looking girl to be the same one he’d seen months ago? Slim to none!

“Well, well,” another female voice drawled. “Look what kind of trouble you manage to get yourself into if I’m not around to save your ass.”

Derek’s red eyes widened before the red colour bled out, leaving nothing but hazel behind.

“Kate?”

Stiles had never heard Derek say a name with so much meaning, with so much feeling.

The knot, previously loosened around his heart, tightened again. This wasn’t good. Who was this woman? When she turned, her narrow-eyed gaze settling on him, his heart skipped a beat before starting to hammer in his chest. Evil, he saw evil there. No remorse, no feeling.

If he hadn’t been so tired, he would’ve flung himself backwards, scrambling to get away. Panic, so bone deep it nearly sent him back into his ghostly form, soared through him, threatening to suffocate him where he sat.

His eyes flickered to Derek’s face who had only eyes for Kate. The vice around his heart returned, squeezing much harder than before. 

For why would Derek be interested in him, when he could have a beautiful woman like Kate? Not only was the closer to Derek’s age, she was also dangerous and clearly capable. All Stiles had to offer was a litany of stupid comments and his inability to focus on any task at a given time.

“You alright there?” the girl was crouching down before him, looking at him with kind eyes. It was such a startling shift from how badass she’d looked before that Stiles could do nothing but blink.

“I think so,” he slowly said, and then he promptly proved he was wrong, by passing out.


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey there. You can’t pass out now?”

The slightly panicky sentence, which Stiles was about to ignore, was followed by a not so gentle slap to his face.

 _This_ he couldn’t ignore.

Groaning, his eyes fluttered opened.

“Whaaaa?” He smacked his lips.

“What’s your name, cutie?”

“Stiles.” The answer came easily since the question was a simple one. He accepted the hands assisting him up into a sitting position.

His eyes settled on a dark haired girl with dimples. The same feeling of déjà vue overcame him.

“I’m Allison,” the girl distracted him by saying. “And this?” She used her head to point at the other woman. “This is my aunt Kate.”

Stiles’ gaze flickered to where she was pointing, settling on curly blond hair and breathtakingly stunning woman. _Good_ , he thought wryly. At least he hadn’t imagined the pretty on top of everything else. His timing couldn’t have been better either. Kate latched onto Derek, hauling him forward into a kiss. There was no awkwardness about it. No flailing of limbs or squawks of outrage. Instead, the kiss seemed natural, as if they’d done it countless times before.

Stiles’ mouth hung open.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” Allison reassured him, patting him on his arm. “I’ve never met Derek but from the way Kate’s been going on about him, I would’ve been surprised if she hadn’t tried to kiss him.” The sentence was followed by a snicker.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, forcing his eyes away from the couple. _Couple_. He swallowed hard to get the bile out of his throat.

“Just that she’s been hung up on him for years. Derek this, Derek that…it’s a miracle my mother hasn’t shot her yet. Or maimed him. But apparently there’s nothing to be done about it since Derek hasn’t violated the code.”

“What code?”

“Don’t harm the innocent,” she quoted. Then she rolled her eyes. “We don’t just shoot werewolves for sport.” The she was laughing again which Stiles found very disconcerting. “Even though, I’d imagine a proper hunt would’ve be very exciting.”

 _Alright then_. Stiles decided beautiful people were all crazy. Avoid them and live longer. This was going to be his new motto from now on.

“We weren’t here.”

“What?” Stiles frowned, focusing on Allison again. Everything was a bit fuzzy around the edges. Could be getting smacked in the head and being hurled around like a sack of potato. Could be shock, he couldn’t rule it out. Could also be his ADD acting up. His forehead creased some more.

He’d been off the drugs for about a year now, ever since he became a ghost. He preferred thinking of it as _becoming a ghost_ than _dying_. It was less dramatic even though it kind of meant the same. Anyway, he’d been off the good stuff for a while, would this affect his transition into being human? But he wasn’t human, was he? He was a werewolf. Would this help or hinder? Would he go nuts, kill someone even?

He started to shiver.

“Snap out of it.” Her words were accompanied by yet another slap to his face. Clenching his teeth, he growled. His eyes widened when he noticed Allison flinching away from him. Good. At least someone wasn’t taking him for granted.

“We weren’t here,” she repeated. At Stiles’ confused look, she elaborated. “We already took care of the bodies while you were unconscious. There’ll be no trace of them. So since they were never here…”

“Neither were you,” Stiles completed. Wait, bodies? Only Peter had been dead at Derek’s hands. What had happened to the other guy? And did he really want to know? Better for him to be dead anyway. If he were alive, he might decide to come after him again and he’d rather not have this hanging over his head, thank you very much.

“Let me help you inside,” she offered, holding out a hand for him to take.

“Thanks,” he said, taking her up on the offer. When he was standing again on his shaky legs, he avoided looking at Derek. Why hadn’t he come over? Checked to see if Stiles was alright?

Oh right. Because he was lip locked to Kate. Another growl escaped his throat. An approaching car had him tilting his head sideways. 

“You better leave,” he announced. “I think my Dad’s about to come back.”

“Here.” He was surprised when Allison pushed a folded piece of paper into his front pockets. “Call me.”

“What? Why?” He stuttered.

“Because I’m new to town and I could use a friend. Someone I don’t have to lie to about what my family does.”

He was nodding before he realized he was agreeing to hang out with someone who could probably kill him in his sleep.

 _Damn_.

##

He just barely made it into the bathroom before he could hear the front door close.

“Stiles?”

He cringed at the worry in his father’s voice.

“In here!” He hollered, quickly turning on the spray of the water so his Dad wouldn’t come in.

He could hear footsteps, stopping just outside the door.

“Stiles? You alright, son?” The slight quiver in his Dad’s voice had him stomach tightened.

“Yes, I’ll be down in a few seconds.”

There was no answer, just a soft tap on the door before Stiles could hear his Dad walking downstairs again. His clothes were in no state he could show his father so he quickly undressed, throwing them into the bottom of the hamper. He’d take care of them later.

Hopping into the shower was a relief. Tilting his head into the spray, he closed his eyes, imagining all the evil he recently experienced washing away.

When he was done, he quickly towelled dry, fastening it around his waist. He quickly padded into his room, throwing on a few of his old clothes. Thankfully being dead for a year meant he hadn’t actually aged, everything still fit perfectly. Well, he frowned at how loosely his jeans hung on his hips. Was it possible to loose weight while being a ghost? Technically he hadn’t eaten in a very long time he hadn’t needed sustenance to survive so…

Before his forehead could crease permanently, he decided to not pursue this train of thought. What was the point?

Thankfully, he’d already been bruised to begin with so when he walked downstairs and into the kitchen, his father didn’t notice the few additional scrapes.

The moment he laid eyes on his father, his eyes watered. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d crossed the distance, attaching himself to his back like an octopus, hugging him as if his life depended on it.

“Stiles,” his Dad huffed in mock complaint. He was squeezing back equally hard though so he didn’t pay any attention to his tone of voice.

“I missed you so much,” Stiles mumbled. His heart was constricting so much, it actually hurt. His chest was aching as if someone had tied a rope around it, squeezing it tight.

“Hey, hey, don’t…you’re fine…you’re safe.”

His father had somehow managed to turn around, pulling Stiles into his arms instead of being hugged from behind. He’d like to believe him. He wanted nothing more than being save, being able to go back to his life and pretend he’d never laid eyes on werewolves or learnt what it was like to drift through walls.

But hey, he couldn’t! Guess what! He was a werewolf! So try as he might, he was never going to be safe. His eyes widened. His body stiffened, resulting in his father making more cooing noises like one would with a frightened animal.

The full moon. When was it? What if he lost control? He was unable to strain a coherent thought together most of the times, was he going to accidentally kill someone? He couldn’t…what was he going to do?

The rope around his chest tightened even further. He sucked in as much breath as he could, trying to get his lungs working again but nothing worked.

“Come on, calm down…”

Stiles could barely hear his father speaking. There was such a loud roar in his ears as if an ocean had taken up residence somewhere in his head. The noise was drowning out everything else.

A hard slap to his face had him reeling. He raised a hand, holding his stinging cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked with indignation.

“You were having a panic attack.”

“Oh,” Stiles blinked. Then he smiled. “I guess, thanks for hitting me then?”

His Dad gave him a funny look. “Sit down before you set the kitchen on fire.”

“Come on,” Stiles whined. “That was one time. And it wasn’t really my fault.”

“Not your fault?”

Dad took a moment away from scrambling the eggs to raise an eye brow at him. Stiles shrugged. Wait, no, he wasn’t going to take the fall for the evil microwave.

“It was the microwave’s fault.”

“Really,” his Dad dryly answered. “It just decided to explode then?”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded eagerly. “Must’ve gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. I was just an innocent bystander…”

“Who put a non-microwavable dish into it and the promptly forgot about it.”

“If you want to put it that way…” Stiles looked down.

He could hear his father chuckling and it warmed his heart. There was even a soft smile playing across his own face. How he’d missed those moments, those mornings with his father where everything always seemed alright in the world.

“Here, eat up. You’ve always been skinny but I think right now even a gust of wind could blow you away.”

“Har-har…” Stiles quickly grabbed a fork, scooping up some eggs. The moment he swallowed, he was already shovelling in more. Gah…he was hungry!

When a loud ringing sound assaulted his ears, he dropped the fork, using both hands to protect his ears. “What the fuck is that?” he complained, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Drama queen,” Dad mumbled. “It’s just my phone.”

When Stiles looked up, he saw his father squinting at the display. Since when did phone ring like sirens? Or could his sensitive hearing be playing tricks on him? How did one dial it down?

Focusing on his own heart beat, he tried to will the sounds around him to dull down until nothing was hurting any more.

“I’ve got to take this, son.”

Stiles nodded, already busy with buttering his toast.

He wasn’t doing it on purpose but apparently being curious was enough reason for his extra senses to kick in. Still, if he didn’t know Peter Hale was out on bail, the conversation might not have made any sense at all.

“What do you mean, he’s out?” His father hissed.

Stiles pitted whoever was on the other end of the line. His father was an easy going man unless someone crossed him and put someone he cared about in danger. Peter Hale out on bail did put Stiles in danger…well, it would have, err, it did…Stiles brain hurt so he slapped himself to stop thinking about it.

The Alpha was gone. Long live the new Alpha also known as grumpy or sourwolf. Yay?

Wait, did this mean Derek was now his boss? Oh awkward! He’d slept with the guy in the charge! Well, he might’ve also stalked him a little but hey, who could blame him? The man was built and pretty and wow…Stiles really needed his meds.

“Son?”

“Huh?” Stiles’ head snapped up. Oh, yes, the conversation he’d accidentally eavesdropped in.

“I’ve got to go to the station for a bit. Will be alright on your own here?”

“Sure,” Stiles answered easily.

“I’ll have two officers stationed outside, just in case.”

Stiles bit his lip. His Dad was worried Peter might come for him. He was right too since this was exactly what had happened. He didn’t like for him to be this concerned, afraid to leave him alone but he couldn’t reassure him. How would this go? _Don’t worry, Dad. Hale’s dead already. He’s gotten his throat slashed._ Yeah, no, this wasn’t a conversation Stiles was eager to have.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured his father. “I’ll just stay indoors.”

Now, Dad was frowning. “I don’t want you to feel locked up in your own home…”

“Don’t worry,” Stiles reassured him, and for once he wasn’t lying. “I’m tired anyway. I’ll just pop in a DVD or two and eat myself stupid.”

“I won’t be long.”

Stiles nodded again, giving him a little wave.

“I’ll bring back a new phone for you too.”

“What happened to my old one?”

His father was already half way to the door when he shouted his answer. “I never found it.”

“Oh,” Stiles mouthed. Probably because he never went anywhere without it. He gulped. Was it still with his corpse? Was there still a dead body buried somewhere? What if someone dug him up? How was he going to explain being dead and alive at the same time?

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Gah!” Stiles flailed, losing his equilibrium, sliding off the chair until he landed in a heap on the floor.

His heart was pounding, his blood rushing through his veins. So much for super hearing! _Oh why did you fail me in the time of need?_

Derek’s hazel eyes stared at him as if he was a piece of puzzle he didn’t know what to do with. His hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out, to offer a helping hand but in the end, he folded him behind his back. Then he moved to lean against the counter, letting his arms dangle at his sides.

Stiles huffed, scrambling to get back into his seat.

“What?” He asked. “You couldn’t at least announce yourself? Knock? Something?”

“And being spotted entering your house? How would you like me to explain that to the two police officers outside?”

Well, he might have a point there, Stiles had to concede.

“Thank you,” he said instead. “For coming to my rescue.”

Derek shrugged. “Was more about taking Peter out for good than rescuing you but sure.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. His nose wrinkled. There was a strange smell in the air, not quite unpleasant but also not quite right. He had no way to put it into any kind of words. 

“Are you lying?”

“No?”

“Is this a trick question?” Now Stiles was getting confused. “You’re my Alpha now too?”

People who knew him usually had adjusted to him jumping from one topic to the next. Clearly Derek wasn’t there yet because for a few seconds, he seemed to have lost the plot before he nodded. “I am.”

“Yay?” Stiles offered tentatively. “You going to be an ass like your…uncle was it?”

This earned him a glare. Stile wasn’t fazed by it. He’d been a ghost, travelled through walls and managed to scare a selective assortment of fury creatures, then he’d been turned a werewolf, made human again only to be assaulted by a freak, well, if Derek wanted to intimidate him, he’d have to try harder.

“I’ll hold a pack meeting later on. You have a friend…what’s his name?”

“Scott?”

“Yes, I’ll let him know and he can bring you along. This way, we’ll have a cover story as to why you’re invited.”

Stiles got the impression this was less of an invitation and more of an order. He felt his hackles rising but then he decided it might be best if he showed up after all.

“Sure,” he said noncommittally.

“I can make it an order.”

“You can try,” Stiles challenged, eyes narrowed. “Peter tried to order me to stay put and I ran. He tried to give me lots of stupid orders and I ignored them all. What makes you think I’ll start listening to you, sourwolf?”

“What?” There was an edge to Derek’s voice which Stiles didn’t like. He also wasn’t overly fond with how the guy tilted forward, seeming to sniff him from the distance. “You’re in my pack. I’ve got no intention to be like my uncle but make no mistake. I’m still the Alpha.”

“Do as I say or I’ll rip your throat out?” Stiles offered, giving Derek his most winning smile.

More perplexed looks was the only answer he got. He had actually stunned Derek into silence? Wasn’t too hard, he mused, since the guy wasn’t too talkative to begin with.

“Don’t try and come around on your own before the invite.”

“Derek,” Stiles hurriedly said when the guy pushed off from the counter, looking as if he wanted to leave. Stiles stepped into his space, tentatively putting his hands onto his shoulders, looking into his eyes. He’d just moved a tiny bit forward, when Derek shoved him backwards.

“Don’t,” Derek growled, eyes flashing red.

“But why?” Stiles whined, an unhappy sound bubbling up from deep in his throat. “We’ve been…before, you know?” He waved his hands about, hoping Derek got the message. “You’re not interested in me now? Because I’m no longer a ghost? You only wanted to…be with me because I was different? Your own personal ghost sex slave?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Derek mumbled, his eyes momentarily darting away before they focused on Stiles again. There was a strange emotion swirling around in those brilliant orbs, an emotion Stiles couldn’t read. “We just can’t be. Let’s leave it at that, alright?”

“Got it,” Stiles mumbled. Truly, he understood. He’d never been much to look at to begin with. Obviously, a guy like Derek had only been attracted to him because _he’d been right there_.

Now, as a human slash werewolf, the novelty clearly had worn off.

Stiles gulped. Plus, how was he supposed to compete with the gorgeous woman who’d come to his rescue and who’d kissed Derek? Maybe she was his long lost love or something. Even if she wasn’t, the point remained that he wasn’t much to look at to begin with. Clearly not enough to tempt a gorgeous guy or an Alpha.

Well, unless the Alpha was Peter but hey, hadn’t they already established the guy had been a freak? So maybe this proved Derek was actually sane? Because he wasn’t attracted to him now?

Oh, how was this his life?

When Stiles focused on Derek again, about to give him a piece of his mind or at least hit him in the face, the guy was already gone.

“Figures,” Stiles mumbled. Then he slumped onto the ground, pulling his knees to his chest.

This was how Scott found him about half an hour later.


	8. Chapter 8

The loud bang of the front door closing had Stiles shaking, nearly tripping over his own feet to get up as fast as possible.

“Stiles!”

He opened his mouth, unsure of how to proceed, when Scott barrelled into him. Both of them crashed to the ground with Scott clinging to him like a wet blanket.

All air left Stiles’ lungs upon impact with the ground.

“Oww,” he complained. Scott snuffled harder.

“It worked, it worked…you’re alive!” His friend’s head came to rest over his heart, listening intently. 

The floor dropped out beneath Stiles’ feet. Scott had known. He’d set him up. He’d let him walk right into a trap!

Kicking, screaming, shoving and cursing, he extracted himself from Scott. Without thinking about it, his claws came out. He held his hands at his sides, slightly raised, ready to slash out.

“You set me up!” Stiles yelled, words slightly slurred because of his lengthening teeth.

“Uhm…” Scott looked torn. “You’re my best friend. Peter said there was a way he might be able to get you back. I figured you’d rather be a werewolf than dead! Was I wrong?”

“You, you sold me to him?” Stiles screeched, not proud of the tone his voice took but unable to help himself.

Scott’s happy face clouded over. “What did he do?”

Stiles gaped. How often had he listened to Scott rant and rave about what an asshole Peter was and yet, he was surprised now? 

“You can’t tell me, you thought he was offering this out of the goodness of his heart!”

“Why not?” Scott challenged, looking honestly baffled. There wasn’t the same not-quite-right scent in the air which told Stiles his friend was actually telling him the truth. He couldn’t really be this dense, right?

Then again, this was Scott.

“What’s going on here?”

Did no one knock anymore? Stiles threw his hands up in the air. Scott squeaked when he saw a small crossbow aimed at his head. There was a flurry of motion and then Scott was actually hiding being Stiles.

“Dude,” Stiles said in exasperation. “You’re not actually using me as a human shield.”

“Dude,” Scott echoed. “Cross bow.”

Stiles elbowed him in his stomach, making a point out of stepping aside. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said to the idiot. “But you should’ve known not to trust Peter.”

Scott looked guilty for a minute before he raised his head, staring at Stiles. “No,” he sternly said. “I knew the offer was probably too good to be true but I thought it was worth the risk.”

“Why didn’t you at least warn me then?” Stiles wanted to know.

“What if I’d gotten your hopes up and it wouldn’t have worked? What if this would’ve sent you over into your…” Scott coughed, eyes darting to Allison before he mouthed the words _ghostly afterlife_ at him.

“Never, ever,” Stiles pronounced each word carefully. “Do something like this again. Any plan you hatch, even if you think it might hurt my feelings, I want you to run by me first. You understand me?”

“Sure, sure,” Scott agreed easily, smiling widely at him once more.

Stiles sighed. He really loved him like the brother he’d never had but if Scott wasn’t watched all the time, he’d stumble into one disaster after another. He had a good heart but he’d never been the brains of the operation.

“This is Allison,” Stiles made an aborted motion with his head to indicate towards the girl in the room. “I’d be nice to her if I were you,” he added. “She’s a hunter. She knows how to use the crossbow.”

“Nice to meet you!” Scott quickly said. “Hey!” His friend added with a curious look. “I’ve seen you before! I never got the chance to talk to you! I’m Scott.”

Before Stiles could comprehend what was happening, Scott brushed past him, quickly walking towards Allison. Could she not only be the girl Stiles had spotted in the mall, who’d somehow sensed his ghostly presence, but also the girl Scott been hung up about for months?

If so, then fate really worked in mysterious ways.

He moved towards the fridge, getting what he needed to make sandwiches for three. Occasionally he glanced over his shoulder, somewhat happy to note it wasn’t only Scott who seemed infatuated. Allison was right there with him, leaning into him, smiling at him with a soft smile and twirling a long strand of her hair.

Stiles rolled his eyes and went back to apply mayo to the bread. He ignored the churning of his stomach. Scott deserved to be happy too. Just because Stiles wasn’t worthy enough to actually attract anyone in human form, didn’t mean he wanted the same misery for Scott.

Still, hadn’t he just come back from the dead? Didn’t he deserve Scott’s undivided attention for at least half an hour? Then again, _boobs, pretty face, wide smile,_ how could he possibly compete?

“Food is ready!” He announced when he was done.

“Thanks, man,” Scott draped a hand over his shoulder, squeezing. He didn’t let go of Stiles until they sat down on the sofa, balancing their plates on their knees. Allison was forced to sit on a chair and Scott didn’t seem to mind, pressing his body as close to Stiles as he could manage without actually crawling into his lap.

What followed was a glorious day of easy fun and lots of laughter.

##

There was a rustling sound as if someone was ruffling paper right in front of his ears. Then, for good measure, someone banged a bong.

Stiles sat up straight in the bed, squinting into the darkness. For a brief second, he tried to hide by phasing through the wall, getting away from whatever he was sensing.

When it didn’t work, he slumped into the bed, going for the good old approach to stick his head under the pillow. If he couldn’t see what was happening, then it wasn’t real.

How had he ended up in his bed anyway? Frowning, he tried to recall what had happened. He flashed to his father, stumbling up the stairs and then face-planting into the bed. He must’ve been a lot more exhausted then he’d thought.

Extracting his head from underneath the pillow, he glanced at the watch on his nightstand. 3 am.

He was just about to write the whole thing off as his hearing acting up, when the latch on his window moved. What the…?

Then a cool breeze drifted into the room. His window was being pushed open! From the outside!

Stiles was out of bed in no time, not bothered by his near nudity or by the fact his father must’ve undressed him. He was still wearing his briefs.

“Who goes there?”

“Really? Who goes there?” A mocking voice reached him. Then, a tall, lanky body squeezed itself into his room, breathing heavily. “You have any idea how hard it is scaling up your wall? I should’ve become a bloody bird and not a wolf.”

“Excuse me,” Stiles drew himself up to full height. It might not be impressive but this was his room, he had home court advantage. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” the guy had the audacity to tell him. “I’m Isaac. Our new lord and master sent me to give you a message.”

Stiles spluttered. “Derek?”

Blue-green eyes stared at him. Isaac tilted his head in a curious fashion.

“You’ve got blue-green eyes!”

The puzzled look only got worse.

“I can see in the dark!”

Stiles got very excited about this. How come he hadn’t thought about this before? Looking around his room, he tried to make out everything his eyes settled on. It wasn’t the same as in daylight but his vision was definitely enhanced.

“This is so cool,” he mumbled excitedly.

“If you’re done having an orgasm, could I give you the message? I don’t have all day.”

“Don’t you mean, you don’t have all night?” Stiles turned again, looking at the intruder. “And hey, what gave you the right to just break into my room?”

Isaac shrugged. “It’s not as if I have your phone number. Now, will you listen?”

“Fine, fine, speak your mind and then be gone, evil spirit.” He used a dramatic a tone as he could muster which earned him a _you’re insane look_.

Affronted, he huffed. “I’m not the one who broke into my house in the dead of the night. You don’t get to accuse me of being crazy.”

“Are you having imaginary conversations now? Because I didn’t say anything.” Isaac pointed out.

“You didn’t have to. It was written all over your face.”

“Anyway,” Isaac drew out the word to proof some sort of point which escaped Stiles. “Stay away from the Argents. Don’t get killed. Again.” Here Isaac frowned.

Maybe he wasn’t clued in to Stiles’ ghostly escapade?

“This is it?”

Isaac nodded. 

“Let me give you my number. Next time, just send me a text.” 

Stiles grabbed his new phone, flickering through the settings until he was able to call out his number.

“Was there anything else?” For a brief moment, Stiles’ heart fluttered in hope. Maybe Derek was going to tell him he still wanted him by messenger? Why else go through all this trouble? It was weird, right?

“Trust me.”

“Trust _you_?” Stiles repeated.

“Not me, stupid. Trust me…trust Derek.”

“Ah,” Stiles let out a huff of annoyance. “Thanks for playing messenger. You can go now.” He waved at Isaac to get the message across.

The guy was already half way out the window, when Stiles recalled something. “This couldn’t wait until morning?”

“Obviously not,” came the dry reply before Isaac vanished out of sight.

Never had the urge to bang his head against the wall been this strong but Stiles was man enough to resist. Instead, he snuggled back into his bed, pulling the blanket over his head.

What the hell had this been all about?

##

With the full moon coming up, Stiles couldn’t tell if his rather homicidal tendencies were a normal side effect or just plain _normal_. He was a bit out of touch with being human. He’d never thought so but apparently being a ghost for a year, had more affect on him that he’d realized. Go figure.

“What’s with you?” Scott asked, sliding into the seat next to him. With wide eyes, Stiles watched the ice cone bob towards Scott’s face. Yes, just a little lower…just a little lower and bang. Right onto the nose.

Stiles cringed, then he laughed so hard he never fell of the stool.

“This isn’t funny,” Scott grumbled.

“It sure is,” Stiles insisted. Then his eyes drifted across the street again where Derek and his queen-bee were currently window shopping.

“I’m sorry. I know you liked the guy.”

This was unusually observant of Scott. Stiles tore his eyes way from the horrible sight across the street to stare at his friend.

“What? I see how you look at him. Do you think you can handle the pack meeting tonight? It’s…”

“The full moon, I know.” Stiles finished the sentence.

He closed his eyes, relishing a few choice dream sequences. Ripping Kate’s throat out, sinking his canine into her tender flesh and then to…just…yank, watching the blood splatter. He’d assumed it would very satisfying indeed.

“Stop with the growling. You have people staring at us.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Since when was Scott the voice of reason? They were doomed, he was sure of it.

##

“You sure you’re alright with me going with Scott? We’ll be spending the night…in the woods…”

“Are you sure you actually want to go?” His father asked right back, raising an eye brow.

No, Stiles didn’t want to go. He could think of a few more pleasant ways to spend the evening like gauging his eyes out and then wait for them to re-grow – slowly.

But Derek was his new Alpha. And he did need help with his first full moon. He’d watched Scott flounder about, and frankly, by comparison, he was doing remarkably well. This just meant, the other shoe was waiting to drop. So he had to go, there was no choice.

“Just nervous,” he admitted, looking down. He forced his fingers to let go of the hem of his shirt. Ripping his clothing apart wasn’t a good sign.

“You’ve got me on speed dial. And whatever you do, don’t drop your phone. The GPS is active, I can find you anywhere, ok?”

Some might find this overly controlling but Stiles was happy about it. His Dad only thought he’d been kidnapped, maybe him not remembering what happened was actually a blessing in disguise. He didn’t know that someone out there had killed him and buried his body somewhere so deep, it hadn’t been found yet.

Stiles didn’t want to drive himself into a panic attack but didn’t everyone always say that 9 out of 10 times you knew your own killer? He wouldn’t have gotten into the car of complete stranger, he was sure of it. So had he gotten ambushed? In town? Stiles doubted it. Their town might not be overly small but a teenager getting hit over the head and then stuffed into a car would draw notice.

And even factoring in his tendencies to run around without thinking about things, he’d vanished without a trace. It was worrisome – is all. What if the killer came back? Stiles worried his bottom lip.

The loud honking outside tore him out of his gloomy thoughts.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry, Dad,” he reassured his father, moving in to squeeze him gently before rushing past him. Fine or not fine, he had to do this. And besides, if he survived tonight, his first full moon, without going homicidal on a certain Argent, then he was pretty sure he’d be able to skip further meetings in the future. After all, Derek couldn’t possibly really want him in his pack.

##

Drumming his fingers against the dashboard wasn’t working.

“Dude, if you don’t stop, _I’ll_ dump your body in the woods,” Scott threatened.

“Not funny, so not funny.”

“Then stop!”

Stiles sent his friend a glare, folding up his fingers. Instead, his leg started rhythmically bumping against the bottom of the car.

“For crying out loud!” Scott yelled, stepping on the accelerator.

Stiles yelp when they nearly crashed into a tree. “What are you doing?”

They made it around a sharp bend in the road when the Hale house came into view. Scott suddenly hit the breaks.

Stiles managed to raised his hands, barely avoiding smacking his head against the front window.

“Are you insane?” he hissed.

Before Scott could answer, he froze, half way out of the car. He flung himself back inside, grabbing Stiles by the upper arm to stop him from getting out of the car.

“We should leave. You don’t really need to be here. We’ll find some nice, cosy place in the woods, and then we’ll howl at the moon. We don’t need…”

“What’s wrong with you?” Stiles asked, teeth grating. He wasn’t used to Scott acting this twitchy. Mopey, moody, annoying, those were attributes he’d usually associate with his oldest friends. Then, Stiles saw something out of the corner of his eyes.

He turned his head, ignoring Scott’s shout _no, don’t look_.

Kate Argent was walking up towards the house, taking those very steps Stiles had loved to float up and down. Then, she walked right up to Derek who was standing on the front porch, supervising the arrivals of his new pack like some sort of feudal king.

“What’s she doing here?” Stiles demanded to know.

“I know, right?” Scott flailed. “She’s human, she shouldn’t be here unless she’s pack…”

“She’s a hunter, you idiot. I don’t care if she’s human.”

“What?”

Stiles turned his eyes on Scott. “Please, tell me it hasn’t somehow escaped your noticed that the girl you’re dating is a certified werewolf killer and related to her. This must’ve come up in conversation somewhere.”

And didn’t he tell Scott Allison was a hunter? Stiles distinctly remembered saying something along those lines.

“Strangely it hasn’t.” Scott pointed out dryly. “Well,” his friend declared. “If she hasn’t killed me yet, then she must like me. What do you think?”

_Oh, the joys of ignorance and / or bliss_ , Stiles mused.

“Are we seriously going to talk about Allison now when…” Stiles’ voice faltered. He didn’t like Kate. He didn’t trust her, just taking one look at her made him want to crawl into a hole and hide. Then, he also wanted to bash her head into tiny, million pieces because she’d dared to encroach into what he considered to be his territory, namely one idiot named Derek Hale.

But he had not one legitimate reason for disliking her. On the contrary even. She’d been the one to come to his rescue. Sure, Allison was there too but only with the added numbers, had Derek been able to overtake Peter.

Derek was probably going to deny this but if Kate hadn’t shot the arrow when she did, Peter might not have been distracted for a brief second. Without that opening, Derek might not have gotten the upper hand.

Either way, Stiles had no logical reason for his dislike apart from jealousy and he really didn’t want to be this person who begrudged someone their happiness.

Was it right what Derek had done? He’d taken advantage of him but Stiles had let him. Being alone for so long, haunting a deserted house and then latching onto the owner when he came back, these weren’t good decisions.

Could he really fault Derek for wanting some action as payment for letting Stiles stick around and haunt him to distraction?

His eyes watered a little bit. He took a deep breath.

“Let’s go,” he declared, his voice a lot more steady than he would’ve thought possible. One moon run was all he needed. By the time the next one came around, he’d be fine on his own. He didn’t have to belong to this pack just because Derek was the only Alpha in town. Despite him being an ass, he wasn’t his uncle.

“I’m thinking of testing out,” Stiles randomly said when he closed the door.

“Huh?”

“Out of high school?” Stiles added. “Pay attention. I’ve got the grades. And when I talked to them, they were pretty understanding considering my circumstances. If I play my cards right, I could look into getting into a college for the spring semester…”

“You sure?”

Stiles gave Scott a look. “You guys all graduated,” he answered. “I really don’t want to go back there, be stared at and be all on my own. What’s my incentive for putting myself through this horror? Dad’s even fine with it.”

Scott shrugged. “If anyone can do it, it’ll be you. You were always the smart one if you managed to stay focused long enough to actually study.”

Stiles grunted in acknowledgment. There were many things he was insecure about. His intelligence wasn’t one of them.

Stiles ignored the curious glances from the other werewolves. Whenever Scott greeted someone by name, Stiles often recognized the person from one of his friend’s rants but he hadn’t actually met any of them in person.

Scott had drifted off towards the barbecue, probably harassing the poor cook into giving him samples when someone walked into his point of view.

“Hi there,” Isaac said, a stupid grin on his face. “Glad you came.”

“Uhuh,” Stiles answered, shuffling his feet.

“Welcome to the pack?”

“Why is this a question?” Stiles asked. His eyes widened. “There isn’t some sort of horrendous pack initiation, is there? I don’t have kill Bambi or eat a rabbit? Oh, don’t tell me!” Stiles was really getting into now, his voice slightly rising. “I’m going to have to go do something stupid, like in one of those movies? Please tell me I don’t have to go and chase a human and pretend it’s fun.”

Isaac gave him a droll look.

“Peter was a bit inventive alright,” the boy confirmed before shrugging. “Derek isn’t like it. I’m so glad he’s our new Alpha.”

“Grumpy wolf?” Stiles asked.

“Don’t tell me you call him that to his face,” Isaac leaned in, whispering.

It was Stiles’ turn to shrug.

“He’s a bit growly, alright,” Isaac confided in him. “But he’s seems to be a good guy. Definitely a step up from Peter.”

“Glad you’re happy,” Stiles said, patting Isaac on the shoulder.

When he looked around, not really consciously looking for a way to escape but still doing it nonetheless, he caught Kate staring at him. Giving someone the evil eye had been nothing but an expression until now.

He gulped.

“Stay away from her,” Isaac was leaning in, whispering into Stiles’ ear. “She creeps me out. She showed up in my room one night...” Then Isaac shuddered and Stiles didn’t think it was a mock-shudder.

Stiles tore his eyes away, not wanting to be drawn into the pools of evil. “Do we have to wait for our lord and master to give the OK to run? Do we get to eat first? Do I have to talk to him? I don’t want to...” The last bit came out as a whine.

“Do you always talk this much?”

“Why?”

“Err...”

“So, do I have to bow down before Derek or can I just sit here and wait for the run?” Stiles tried again. Derek wasn’t close by, hell, he wasn’t even standing in the right spot for the slight breeze to carry his scent towards him, but he could still smell him easily. It was torture, especially since he could also tell Kate was practically clinging to Derek like a leech.

“I supposed you should pay your respects,” Isaac started to say. When Stiles gave him a beseeching look, the curly haired guy amended. “But he knows you’re here. He saw you arrive.”

“He did?” Stiles asked, frowning.

“Sure did,” Isaac confirmed. “Kate had to hit him twice in the arm to get his attention. She wasn’t happy.”

Stiles wasn’t so sure what he was supposed to do with this information so he just ignored the statement.

“Can I sit with you?”

Stiles grunted. He wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore which seemed to suit Isaac just fine. Together they sat there, on the grass, until nightfall.

“Do you want to eat before we run?” Isaac asked when the sun was about to set, the last tendrils of daylight waning swiftly.

“Nah,” Stiles patted his stomach. “Not really hungry. Besides, I’m afraid I might spit everything up again. First time for me, you know...”

Stiles watched as Derek jumped off the porch, changing mid jump and landing on his paws. He took off into the dark forest. This was the cue for everyone else to join him. Soon Stiles was the last person left.

“You coming?” Isaac asked.

Stiles nodded. He titled his head skywards, searching for the moon. The clouds made it impossible for him to actually see the pale orb but he could swear he could still sense its presence. It was calling out to him, its soft melody enchanting not only his body but also his soul.

He’d just taken a few steps, falling forward until he was on all fours when a snapping twig to his side had him looking sideways. He growled when a familiar scent assaulted his noses. If she was stupid enough to come near him like this, then Kate deserved to be mauled.

Stiles leaned forward, getting ready to attack when an arrow came out of nowhere. Stiles yelped, body twisting sideways. His shoulder burned. He shifted back, yanking it free. He glared it at it, tossing it aside.

She was going to pay! Suddenly, the ground rushed towards him, welcoming him with open arms.

What was happening? His limbs weren’t moving, even breathing seemed to be almost too much to ask.

Suddenly, Kate’s pretty face hovered over him, smiling viciously. “He’s mine. Always has been, always will be. He’s my mate. You don’t get to interfere. You’ve got no right. This time, you’ll stay dead. Even if I have to chop you up into tiny pieces!”

Stiles didn’t even have the time to process what was being said. The darkness was rushing towards, dragging him under. Not even his rising panic could stop it.


End file.
